


Chance Encounters

by Timcanpy_Sees_All



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Acting, Age Difference, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Canon-typical religious elements, Children, Consensual Sex, Consent is Sexy, Dream Sex, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, House guest, Kidnapping, Original Character Death(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pregnancy, Reader-Insert, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sex, Smut, Soulmates, Swearing, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25169020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timcanpy_Sees_All/pseuds/Timcanpy_Sees_All
Summary: You're an actress, and by sheer dumb luck you meet a traveling clown by the name of Mana Campbell. Fate decides to bring you together again and again over the years.
Relationships: Allen Walker & Reader, Mana Walker/Reader
Comments: 31
Kudos: 45





	1. The Clown and the Dog

“Everyone! Can I have your attention?”

You break character and turn, as do your coworkers. The manager has entered with a rather distressed Pierrot in tow, a beagle in a ruff barking at their heels. It didn’t bite, nor did it snarl, but it did its darndest to get the manager to take notice and let its master go.

Once everyone was staring at the spectacle, the manager threw an arm around the clown’s shoulder. A feat, considering he was a good head shorter than the man. “We’ve found our clown!”

“Did you ask first?” This wouldn’t be the first time he’d randomly conscripted a street performer without a word of warning, so the question from one of your coworkers is well warranted.

“Of course I asked!” But judging by his expression, he’d let his excitement get ahead of him again.

You sigh, shake your head. The manager’s eyes zero in on you. “(F/N)! Thank you for volunteering!”

“For what?!”

“You can fill our friend… er…” Apparently, he hadn’t bothered to get the man’s name either before dragging him here. “Well, you can fill him in on what he needs to do for the show!”

Not for the first nor the last time, you contemplate punching the man. Well, you could deal with this. Lead role or no, you’d only recently been promoted from glorified extra. Even if it was a blatant attempt by a rich patron to get you into his bed. You couldn’t let this opportunity slip away by angering your coworkers. They already disliked you for whoring yourself for the starring role, even if you’d politely declined every advance so far.

Besides, if the clown actually agreed to this, he’d be in most of your scenes anyway. Not that he had any speaking lines. He just had to be an extra in the background, doing his usual routine while you and your costar did your thing.

So you put on your best smile and hide the distaste for the whole situation as you step forward and introduce yourself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr…?”

“Mana D. Campbell,” he replies, taking your hand and shaking it. He then gestures to the dog sitting patiently at his feet. “And this is Allen.”

You squat down and offer a hand for the beagle to sniff. Allen surprises you by lifting a paw and mimicking his master’s handshake. “Nice to meet you both,” you say before standing back up. “I’m guessing Mr. Williamson didn’t explain anything?”

The clown gives you a sheepish smile. “He asked if I would like a job. I didn’t realize he meant a stage show.”

That sounds about right to you. You lower your voice, but its unlikely your boss would hear as he’s far too busy yelling at some of your coworkers. “He tends to do that. Sorry about all this.”

You flip through your script to one of the first scenes Mr. Campbell would be in and show him. “We needed a clown for a couple scenes in the play, but Mr. Jeffreys sprained his ankle and we’re in a bit of a pickle. You don’t have to do anything different than you usually would.”

Mr. Campbell nods, but still looks doubtfully down at the page. “I’m afraid I must turn you down. Allen and I need to keep moving.”

“We only need you to fill in for a few days,” you insist. “Through the end of next week at the most. The pay’s probably better than you’d get performing to passerby in this weather, _and_ you should still have plenty of time to do that if you want to. Mr. Williamson won’t mind. It’s free publicity if he has one of the stagehands pass out fliers at the same time.”

Still the man shakes his head. “No, no, I—”

If he leaves, they’ll blame you and you might get fired. Or worse, Mr. Williamson might set you up so you can’t slip away from that patron again. So you take Mr. Campbell by the hands and plead, “We _need_ you. Please. Just for opening night. Then if you don’t like it, Mr. Jeffreys should be well enough to limp through. We just need to make sure the reviews are good opening night. _Please_.” You don’t like begging, but this is part of the job.

Mr. Campbell glances down at his dog. “What do you think, Allen?” The dog gives a wag of its tail and a bark in response.

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, he turns his attention back to you and agrees. “But only for opening night.”

* * *

He watches you through rehearsal. Specifically you. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, but each time you look his way—stage directions, you aren’t looking because you want to—he’s juggling with his dog as if he hadn’t been boring holes into your back. He’s quite good, and you don’t have to act like you’re enjoying his performance the way you always did with Mr. Jeffreys’. If anything, he’s too good. You’ve managed to keep from getting distracted by him and his dog, but your costars… not so much.

 _They’ll have to up their game_ , you think as you prompt the male lead again and someone backstage whispers his line.

By the end, you’re exhausted from having to run through the scenes with Mr. Campbell twice more. Supposedly, it was for the new hire’s benefit, but you suspect it was to get everyone used to the new and improved act before the first show tomorrow. Still, it would have been nice if your boss had at least given everyone a break for dinner.

You’re relieved when the boss tells you all to go home. Though as you head for the door, you realize that your charge likely doesn’t know how to get to wherever it is he’s staying from here. Sighing, you head back to where you last saw him in the greenroom.

When you find him, you’re surprised to discover that he’s actually… kind of handsome under all that clown makeup. In a distinguished gentlemanly sort of way. Not necessarily your type, but he’s not hard on the eyes either. You knock on the open door. “Hey, Mr. Campbell, do you need some help finding your hotel?”

He tilts his head. “Hotel?” Like he didn’t hear you correctly.

“Yeah, where you’re staying.”

“Ah, hotels are too expensive,” he replies with a laugh. “We usually just sleep under the stars. Right Allen?” The dog yips as if to confirm the statement.

Your jaw drops. “You sleep _outside?_ ” They nod, both clown and dog. “In _January?_ ” Again, both nod.

 _Oh bother_. You can’t very well let them stay outside in the cold. Campbell will catch his death, and then the show will be in trouble all over again. But everyone else has already left except for the manager in his office, and you know for a fact that man wouldn’t lend anyone a hand. And he’ll blame you if something happens to the pair.

You make a decision, and you just hope it doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass. “Want to stay in my flat? It’s not much, but at least it’s out of the cold.”

“Ah, we wouldn’t want to impose—”

They totally would be, but it’d be more trouble if they died from exposure. “It’s no problem.”

“Surely your husband would—”

“I’m not married. Now hurry it up before I leave you here.”

“Then we couldn’t possibly—”

“It’s not up for discussion, Mr. Campbell.”

He glances down at Allen, who gives another bark, then follows. “Won’t it be a problem with your landlady?”

“I’ll tell her you’re my uncle or something. It’ll be fine.” He’d changed into a worn suit and coat that once must have been expensive. He looks the gentleman down on his luck. You could make it work.

As expected, the landlady notices you taking a strange man up to your flat and interferes. And as expected, she falls for your lie that this is your uncle staying with you a few days while in town. You’re glad she bought it so quickly, though it helps that Mr. Campbell has quite the silver tongue on him as well. He’s polite to a fault, and friendly to boot. It makes life far easier.

Your flat isn’t huge, but it’s big enough for two. You’ve had friends and coworkers crash on your couch in the past, so he should be comfortable enough. It’s certainly better than getting snowed on.

“So,” you say as you begin getting something together for dinner, “how do you like the play?”

Admittedly, you’re grasping at straws for conversation, but mindless chatter is far preferred to silence.

Mr. Campbell hums to himself. “It’s interesting. I can’t say I’m too familiar with the theater, though. Is it new?”

“Afraid so. A patron of ours wrote it and is flitting the bill for it. It’s supposed to be my ‘vehicle to stardom.’”

He tilts his head and taps his chin. “That explains why you have so many lines.”

You grimace. “That’s exactly why.”

“Would you like some help?”

“Nah, I’ve got it.” You chop up the vegetables and toss them in the pan. Next is the meat, some of which you cut smaller and set aside while you add the rest to the mix of vegetables. Once that’s going, you put the extra on a plate and set it down for your furry guest.

Allen chows down with gusto, and you return to the human dinner. “Why’d you name him Allen?” you ask. It’s a weird name for a dog, but hey, your mother, bless her heart, had a hen she’d named Jimmy for years, so who were you to judge?

“It’s an important name that I cannot forget,” he replies, beaming. “I gave it to him so he can remind me if I do.”

Well, you’ve heard weirder reasons. You shrug and stir the food. Delicious smells waft throughout the little kitchen, making your mouth water. You hear Mr. Campbell’s stomach rumble in agreement from where he sits at your kitchen table and laugh. “Tell me, Mr. Campbell, when’s the last time you had a good meal?”

He blushes and chuckles. “I must admit, it’s been a while.”

You divvy up the food. “Then bon appétit.”

Fairly quickly, you realize this man you’ve let into your home is a little… off. Friendly, but off. He tells you all sorts of stories, some that most certainly can’t be true, but the way he tells it, he seems to believe in it. Stories of golems and monsters slip in among the tales of far off lands and people, and each is given equal gravity.

You suppose it makes sense that he’s not all there. Most normal people get a regular boring job, not travel around as a clown living on the kindness of strangers. Still, you’re a little envious. He’s been an awful lot of places, some you’ve never heard of. It’s not difficult to parse out the real from the absurd, and the real is amazing. Paris, Constantinople, Athens… this man has been all over Europe.

“Must be nice to see so many places,” you find yourself saying.

He gives a self-deprecating smile. “It’s not for everyone. There are days where I barely have enough to feed Allen and myself.”

“Well, the pay’s pretty good at the theater. That should keep you both going for a little while.”

He nods in agreement, then takes your empty plate to the sink for you.

* * *

Opening night goes off without a hitch. People are cheering during curtain call, loudest of all for Mr. Campbell and his dog even though he was just meant to be an extra. There’s a party after, and your fellow cast members all give you a pat on the back. “Hard to beat a professional,” they joke, and you find yourself smiling. At least they aren’t giving you the cold shoulder anymore.

At least, not until the man who bankrolled the production starts causing trouble. You can smell the alcohol from here, and try as you might, you just can’t shake the man. Eventually, he finds you and throws an arm around you.

“You were _fabulous_ tonight,” he purrs.

You try to escape, but his arm around you only tightens. “Well, I couldn’t let everyone down.”

He smiles and presses a drink into your hand. “We should celebrate your success. You’ll be the talk of the town tomorrow once the papers are out.”

Tentatively, you take a sip—or pretend to, anyway. The smell alone tells you it’s way too strong, and you don’t trust him to not have messed with it in some other way. “We’re already celebrating, aren’t we?”

“I meant _alone_.” And he tries to lead you to the door.

Silently, you beg for your coworkers to save you. A few give you scornful glares, as if you invited his attention, but others look on helplessly, not wanting to anger the man paying for everything but concerned for your safety. Your boss is making a little motion with his hands as if to say, _“Get on with it already.”_ No one to rescue you. You’ll just have to find your own way out of this. Or pray to whatever god is out there to send you a knight in shining armor.

A dog in a ruffled collar and a clown will just have to do.

Allen weaves his way through the small party and barks at your ankles. When that doesn’t stop your abductor, he hurries ahead of you and goes on his hind legs, pawing at the air to get your attention. It works. The show’s benefactor pauses to watch the spectacle.

“What on Earth is that dog doing?” he mumbles to himself as the dog sits back and does the most adorable head tilt to ever grace the theater.

You take advantage of his loosened grip and kneel to scritch Allen behind the ear. It’s the perfect opportunity to escape, but you can’t do it too obviously and offend him. “He probably wants a snack. Here, let me get you something, Allen.”

“Let someone else feed the dog. We’ve got plans.”

“ _You’ve_ got plans,” you tell him, keeping your voice light. “ _I_ have the real star of the show to feed.”

He hauls you up roughly by the arm. “Someone else can feed the damned dog. I think you’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

A hand falls on the patron’s shoulder, and Mr. Campbell, smiling brilliantly, says, “I heard you wrote the show. I must say, I’m honored to have been a part of it. I think you have a winner on your hands.”

This has the man puffing up his chest. “You flatter me.”

“Not at all. You have quite the talent.” Mr. Campbell’s being perfectly sincere. Or faking it well enough that you can’t tell the difference.

Either way, it’s good enough to stroke the other man’s ego. You’re all but forgotten as Mr. Campbell acts as distraction, politely turning away drinks while Allen gives you a nudge. The two make quite the team, you think as you slip out of the party.

* * *

Mr. Campbell stays on with the theater for another week. He also plays interference regularly whenever a certain someone stops by after the show to take you away. It works great for the first few nights, but by the end of the week, the man catches on.

“Mr. Campbell, what exactly is that girl to you?”

He smiles broadly. “Miss (L/N)? Why, she’s just a kind soul helping a down-on-his-luck Pierrot.”

“So she’s no relation of yours?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Nor your lover?”

This makes Mr. Campbell blush. “L-lover? Good heavens, no! She’s—” he seems to wrack his brain for a good explanation. “She’s too young. Practically a child!”

 _Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here,_ you think. You’re somewhat insulted as well. You’re nineteen, not a child. Though both men _are_ old enough to be your father, it still hurts to hear Mr. Campbell say he sees you that way.

“She’s hardly a child,” the other man says. “And if you have no claim to her, then kindly get out of my way.” Though the words are polite, there’s nothing in his tone that is so. He practically snarls it.

Allen pads over to his master and leans heavily against him. Mr. Campbell gives the dog a reassuring pat. “I’m afraid I can’t. You see, Miss (L/N) has been nothing but kind to me and Allen, and I’d rather not see her heart broken. I’m sure you mean well, but—”

He stops short when the show’s patron busts out laughing. “Heartbroken? That trollop?” You feel the heat creeping into your face at his words. “See here, Campbell, it’s a simple matter of economics. I funded the show and gave her her big break. As such, she owes me—”

“I owe you nothing!” you shout at him. “I worked my ass off for this show. We all did. If anything, you should be thanking _us_ for making that half-baked script of yours as successful as it is.” A few of your coworkers nod in agreement with you.

His face contorts in rage and he shoves Mr. Campbell aside to seize you by your hair. “What was that?” he hisses. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

Tears sting your eyes, but you refuse to take back what you said. Every word was the truth. “I _said,_ ” you grit out, “your script sucked a horse’s arse and we managed to make something of it.”

He aims to strike you, but Mr. Campbell catches his fist. Allen’s at your feet, and for the first time ever, you hear him growl. “Kindly let her go,” he says, his grip on the man tightening until he winces and releases you. There’s something in his amber eyes that scares you, and it must have the same effect on the show’s patron, for he leaves in a hurry.

Once the man has gone, Mr. Campbell fusses over you. “Are you all right? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“I’m fine,” you reply, still a little stunned by the sudden change. Mr. Campbell had always struck you as kind of goofy and without a mean bone in his body. To see him with what you could only describe as murder in his eyes, even for the briefest of moments, makes you reevaluate everything.

Allen whines softly, and you lean down to scratch his ears. “No, really, I’m fine,” you say more to the dog than Mr. Campbell. “It’s my fault anyway—”

“It’s not,” he reassures you. “You were right, saying you don’t owe him that sort of favor.” Though he does seem a little sheepish as he admits, “Though you probably could have said so in a nicer way.”

You sigh and pick up the bag you dropped. A few of your coworkers check to make sure you’re all right as you leave, and you’re grateful for the distraction for the time it lasts. Pretty soon, though, it’s just you and Mr. Campbell making your way back to your flat with Allen on your heels, and since he isn’t talking, it leaves you alone with your thoughts.

One thought, in particular. One you feel the need to ask him about. “Do you really only see me as a child?”

“Hmm?” He tilts his head, perplexed.

“…I’m nineteen, you know.”

Mr. Campbell nods, still not seeing where this is going.

“So why do you see me as a kid?”

At last comprehension dawns on him. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I just…” he hesitates a moment. “I just see you the same way I see myself.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. The hell was that supposed to mean? He’s a grown adult, old enough to be your—

“You see, I’m actually seventeen.”

“What?” your voice is flat in disbelief.

“I just woke up one day and found myself like this. It’s the strangest thing.”

“Were you in a coma?”

He hums to himself. “I don’t think so.”

Yup. Definitely crazy. Sweet, but crazy. Which makes it all the more baffling that this bothers you so much.

You make dinner and eat together, both of you lost in your own thoughts. Then, rather abruptly as you’re taking the plates to the sink, Mr. Campbell says, “Allen and I will be leaving tomorrow.”

Your heart nearly stops in your chest. “That soon?”

He nods. “We’ve intruded long enough. I’d hate to overstay our welcome.”

“You haven’t!” you cry. “You’ve been such a big help to our theater. To me, as well. In fact, if you wanted to stay—”

But Mr. Campbell shakes his head. “It’s not a matter of wanting to, I’m afraid. It’s not safe for me to stay with you for too long.”

“Because of those monsters?” He nods, and you sigh. Definitely crazy. You consider telling him there’s no such thing, that those ‘Akuma’ of his are all in his head, but you don’t. Especially considering the favor you’re about to ask him. A favor that you don’t want to think too hard about because really, it’s ridiculous and part of you is hoping he refuses.

You sit back down in your chair and pat Allen on the head. “Mr. Campbell, could I ask you something crazy?”

He’s all smiles as he replies, “Of course.”

It’s now or never. You take a deep breath and hope you don’t regret this. “About what happened earlier… That… I mean, I’m sure that won’t be the last time. There are a lot of nobles around here who are kind of known for funding shows in exchange for sleeping with the actors. So I… um…” You fidget nervously. “I’d like… I mean… if it’s okay with you… I’d rather… I’d rather my first time be with someone I actually kind of like…” you peter out by the end, blushing furiously.

For a few moments, it seems like Mr. Campbell doesn’t follow. Once he understands what your request is, however, his cheeks turn a brilliant shade of red. “You can say no,” you say quickly. “I know, it’s stupid to ask. I shouldn’t have—”

“Okay.”

At first, you think you’ve misheard that single word. Your head jerks up and you stare at the man. “Are you sure? I mean, it really is stupid…”

He gives a small self-deprecating laugh. “While I cannot fathom what you see in a crazy old clown like me, these things don’t always make sense.” Before he said he was seventeen on the inside, but now he seems so much older and wiser. You wonder which is real, the young-at-heart clown or this man before you now. Maybe both are, maybe neither.

That doesn’t matter much to you right now though. All your looking for is a one-night stand with someone that you like at least a little bit.

He tells Allen to wait in your sitting room, and the dog yawns before getting comfortable on the sofa he and Mana have been sleeping on for the last week. Then he leads you to your bedroom. Hesitating, he runs his fingers through your hair and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, even as you flinch a little from nerves.

“If there’s anything you don’t like or you want to stop, let me know.”

“Okay.” It comes out a little fainter than you wanted it to. Not nearly as self-assured as you want to project.

He sits with you on the bed, and for a few minutes, you do nothing more than kiss. He doesn’t remove his clothes nor yours, just holds you close and kisses you. Your forehead, the tip of your nose, your lips. Steadily, the kisses grow deeper, and he allows his fingers to roam, first up and down your arms and across your shoulders, then slowly becoming more intimate. He cups your cheek as his lips find yours again and again. His other hand traces up and down your thigh, slowly bunching the fabric up until his fingers find skin. You shiver at the new sensation of fingertips on unexplored flesh.

There’s also a new feeling between your legs. A dull, needy ache as he caresses you, as he slips his thumb under your stocking. He breaks away to ask, “May I?”

You nod and shift so that he can slide off one stocking, then the other. He presses a kiss to the exposed flesh, and another shiver runs through you at his breath tickling your inner thigh. He straightens and finds your lips once more.

Mana hesitates a moment before asking, “Do you want to keep going?”

You nod and unbutton your dress. He helps you out of it and your corset, and soon you’re bare before him. Heat creeps to your face and you cover your breasts with one arm and your womanhood with your other hand, squeezing your thighs together to hide the wetness that’s collected between them.

He cups your cheek again. “We don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

He nods. “May I touch you?”

His eyes dart quickly downward and back to your face, and you understand his meaning. Again you nod and you shift back so you’re leaning against your headboard with your legs splayed just a little. Mana rests a hand on your knee as he moves closer to kiss you again, his hand sliding up your inner thigh.

One of your coworkers, an actress a few years older than you, often warned you about men and how they liked to make love. “They want nothing more than to jam their cock in you and fuck you until they’re satisfied,” she had told you. “If you’re lucky, they might shove a finger or two in there to open you up first.” But Mana did neither. He just traced along your folds, collecting your juices to rub against your clit. Gently at first, but becoming more insistent with each stroke, he traces circles around the nub before pressing against it or tweaking it, then going back to those circles.

You gasp as his lips leave yours to kiss your neck and jaw. A breathy, needy whine escapes you as he works you over, his nimble fingers finding new ways to play with your clit. He asks for permission before slipping a finger inside, and that nearly tips you over the edge.

“Please,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face against his neck. “I… I want…” But you aren’t sure what you want. Just that you want more of it.

He obeys, pulling away to shrug off his own clothes. This if the first time you’ve ever seen a man like this, and the sight of his cock, erect and thick as it is, makes you nervous again. You blush and avert your eyes.

“We can stop now if you’re uncomfortable. I don’t mind.”

But you shake your head. You want to experience this with him. “I want to try. Please.”

Mana nods and kisses you again. He takes his time, letting you get used to the idea of him between your legs before slowly slipping inside.

The stretch is new but not uncomfortable. Vaguely, you remember your coworker telling you it’s supposed to hurt, that there’s supposed to be blood and maybe tears on your part, but you feel nothing other than that strange new full feeling that makes your mind go blank.

His hips are flush against yours now, and dazedly, you realize he’s all the way inside. You’re officially not a virgin anymore, and that realization makes you blush even more. Mana kisses you again. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“N-no,” you stammer. It doesn’t hurt at all. It feels weird, but not unpleasant. You almost say as much, but that doesn’t strike you as particularly sexy. Not that that’s what you were aiming for. Just…

He kisses you again. “Tell me if you want to—”

“I want to keep going,” you insist. “Please.”

Mana begins to rock against you, small movements at first that have you squirming, wanting more. His cock is stretching you more, rubbing your inner walls in a way that has you meeting each of his thrusts. You’re gasping, moaning, trying to find something to hold on to as you feel something building inside you with each stroke.

Without realizing it, you’re pressing yourself back into your pillows and your legs lift into the air, changing the angle and sending your mind reeling as a result. The air fills with your voice urging him on, pleading, begging, “More, oh God, _yes._ Please, that!” More gasps, the mattress springs squeaking as he picks up the pace, and then, “ _Ah!”_ You’re coming, pulled apart at the seams from the inside out.

He thrusts a few more times before his length leaves you. The loss makes you whine, but he kisses your forehead. “I don’t want to leave you with unpleasant reminders.”

That rattles around in your scrambled mind a few moments as you lay there panting before you comprehend his meaning. You sit up suddenly, just in time to watch him stroke himself to completion. Creamy white cum spurts out over his hand and dribbles down his fingers, and you find yourself blushing fiercely again. All of this is still new, but seeing him come like that wasn’t at all what you were expecting. Again, your more experienced coworker had told you men _never_ wanted to pull out, that you had to be careful and nag them or else they wouldn’t.

Mana chuckles at your stunned expression before giving you a peck on the forehead. You start, flush even deeper, then tilt your head to find his lips. “Thank you,” you find yourself whispering, unsure what else to say.

He returns the kiss, then pulls away to clean up. “You don’t have to thank me.”

You hesitate, watching him wipe the seed off his hand with a towel you hadn’t put away from the last time you did laundry. “Um… I understand if you say no, but… would you like to sleep in here? With me?”

He smiles that gentle smile of his and returns to bed with you. You fall asleep in his arms with a contented sigh.

* * *

Come morning, you’re alone. The bed next to you has long since gone cold. You sigh as you get up and get ready. You have a performance tonight again, and it’ll be your job to break the news to Mr. Jeffreys that he’s back in the show. That also means another run-through so he remembers his cues.

As you head to the kitchen, you notice something on your table. A note, written in Mana Campbell’s neat script, and a little pendant made of a flat polished stone. Etched into its surface is a strange little symbol, which according to the note is a charm to protect you from the Akuma out there.

You laugh and shake your head. “Crazy clown,” you mumble, but you still tie the string behind your neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend dared me to write a reader/Mana fic, and I accepted the challenge. Let me know what you think! I have a few more chapters planned, but we'll see how far I get with it.


	2. The Clown Returns

More than a year passes without incident. You’ve begun to think of that silly necklace less as a charm for protection and more as a good luck charm. Since receiving it, you’ve netted every leading role, and not a single one of those funding the productions demanded a crack at you in bed for it. A few certainly asked, but they always accepted your refusal.

Only one you consider accepting should he ask, a young man by the name of Wyatt Jones who is only a year or so older than you and who declared his love for you at first sight. Recently, he brings you a bouquet after every show and asks you to join him for walks or dinner. He never asks to sleep with you and genuinely seems to enjoy your company, but you’ve gone through this song and dance before. Still, part of you doesn’t give up hope that he might want more than only one night.

It’s on one such outing with this admirer of yours that you spy an act you’d recognize anywhere. On this warm spring day, a performer bedecked in the costume of a Pierrot juggles with one hand while twirling a streamer with the other. His dog is nowhere to be found; instead, a little boy in colorful patchwork offers a hat to spectators and passerby alike to throw loose change into. Wyatt grins at the sight of this clown and his little assistant, and he hands the boy a few notes.

The boy’s eyes light up at the sight of the bills, and he says, accent thick, “Thank ya so much, sir!” He pockets the money and positively beaming, hurries back to his partner.

You lightly elbow your date in the rib. “Quite the big spender, aren’t you?”

Wyatt chuckles. “You know I’m a sucker for kids. Anything to brighten a child’s day.”

As he walks you to the theater for the show this afternoon, you comment, "I know that Pierrot. He’s the one we had performing with us last year.”

“I remember seeing him! He had a dog then, didn’t he?”

You smile at the memory of that beagle. “He did. Allen was a good dog. I wonder what happened to the little guy?”

“Maybe a good fairy turned him into that boy,” Wyatt teases, “like that Pinocchio character.”

“That was a puppet!” you say with a laugh.

He hums to himself and puts an arm around your waist. “Was it? I can’t quite recall. Maybe one day when I have kids and read it to them, I’ll get it right.”

Wyatt often drops hints of this sort, like he’s trying to feel you out. Until he asks you, however, you refuse to get your hopes up too much.

* * *

It’s an afternoon show today, so you’re on your way home early that evening. Normally, Wyatt would be there to meet you and take you to dinner, but he had to meet with some business partners and then leave on a trip, so he couldn’t join you. That leaves you free to invite strange men and their children into your home. Or as you’ll tell the landlady, your uncle and cousin.

When you reach the park, Mana has already found a place to change out of his Pierrot costume and makeup and is seated on a bench with his little assistant, counting up their earnings. The boy is excitedly chattering about all the food they could get with it—meat pies and roast chicken and maybe some smoked sausages—kicking his little legs all the while. “And we could get some doughnuts for dessert!” he tacks on at the end, drooling just a little at the thought of a sweet treat.

Mana pats his head indulgently. “Keep eating like that, and we’ll have to get you new clothes again.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but the little boy’s face falls. “Ah, right… so we gotta save some of it, just in case.”

So caught up in their little conversation are they that they hardly noticed your approach. You cough to get their attention, and the pair look up, clearly startled.

“I thought that was you, Mana,” you say. “It’s been a while. How have you been?”

You expect the brilliant smile he’d sent your way any number of times, but instead you’re met with befuddlement. The man glances down at his assistant, who shrugs and says, “Dunno ‘er,” in a quiet voice.

It’s like a knife is twisting in your gut. True, he was your first and only lover, and while you couldn’t be sure if that was true of you for him, you had hoped he’d remember the woman whose virginity he’d helped tarnish. _You’re the one who decided to screw a crazy clown_ , you remind yourself. It’s nobody’s fault but your own that you expected anything.

So instead, you remind him, “I work for the theater over that way. The manager dragged you in to be an extra, remember?”

Mana nods, but he still looks at you like he’s trying to place you. You retrieve the little charm from where you have it tied around your wrist. “You gave me this as thanks for letting you crash in my flat.”

That does the trick. He stared at the polished stone for a few seconds, then his eyes widen and his face flushes. The boy stands on tip toe and pulls on Mana’s arm to see the piece of jewelry himself. After a quick glance between the stone and Mana’s hot face, and his mouth falls open in a surprised, “Oh…”

Then the child yanks harder on Mana’s arm so that he nearly topples over and says not so subtly in the man’s ear, “Mana! You can’t go forgettin’ the people you fuck! That’s how ya get chased outta town!”

If you’d thought Mana was embarrassed before, it’s nothing compared to how he looks now that his assistant has reproached him. “Allen! We don’t say things like that in front of a lady.”

“Like what? Fuck?” He genuinely looks confused. “That’s what they always called it back at the circus.”

He’s flustered but patient as he explains, “That’s not a word children should be using, and no one should in polite conversation.”

“Then what should I call it?”

“You shouldn’t be talking about that at all until you’re older.”

And the boy frowns. “ _You’re_ the one who forgot the lady ya stuck yer—”

You burst out laughing. You can’t help it. It’s true what they say about the mouths of babes. “Stop! Stop, before I hurt something.” You’ve heard far worse backstage, so it’s not like he’s offending your delicate sensibilities or something.

You wipe a tear from your eye and say, “Now that you remember, care to join me for dinner? I bought a bit too much, so it’s no problem to cook for three.”

Allen’s face lights up, and he pulls at Mana’s sleeve again. “Can we, Mana? Please?”

“Well…”

“It’s really no trouble. In fact, you’d be doing me a favor. I’d hate to waste it because I can’t eat it all.”

With that, he relents. This time, you feed your landlady a line about your uncle and cousin stopping by for a visit. If Allen’s confused by the lie, he doesn’t show it, instead just grinning broadly up at the old woman and laying it on thick while telling her how much he _loves_ you.

“Almost blew your cover there, squirt,” you say once you close the door.

He flashes a mocking grin. “Hey, yer the one fuckin’ yer uncle.”

Mana lets out an exasperated sigh and buries his face in his hands. You just chuckle and pat the man on the shoulder. “Quit while you’re ahead kiddo, or no dessert.” You baked cookies to thank Wyatt and had kept the ones that didn’t look as good for yourself. Which was about half of them (your oven could be temperamental sometimes), but they should taste pretty good, if a little crunchy.

“There’s dessert?!”

“Yup. But if you keep teasing your dad, I’ll just have to eat it all myself.”

Something flickers in Allen’s eyes. “He’s not my dad,” he mumbles.

You’ve hit a sore spot. “Ah, sorry, sorry. My mistake.”

While you busy yourself with getting ingredients in order, you suggest the pair go clean up in the bathroom. Allen’s gone for all of ten minutes before he’s back at your side, hair damp and eyes laser-focused on your hands as you cook. He watches you a few minutes, and you realize that he keeps glancing at your face. Like he wants to say something.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

Allen hesitates, then says, “It’s not Mana’s fault he forgot.”

“I know.” And you do. He was a little crazy back then too. While unexpected, it wasn’t exactly shocking.

But the boy shakes his head. “No, it’s… He got worse ‘cause a’ me.”

He’s staring at his loosely balled fist, and for the first time, you realize that there’s something wrong with it. The skin is red and hard, and it almost looks as if a cross was embedded in it. “It’s ‘cause I’m cursed and I hit him.”

Oh… You set your wooden spoon aside and bend down to be at eyelevel with the child. He’s so small, and there are bags under his eyes. No child should look like this, you think. “Hey, it’s not your fault. Mana’s a grown up. A little kid like you can’t hurt him bad enough to make him forget things.”

“But it _is_ my fault,” insists Allen, “so don’t be mad at him ‘cause he forgot about ya. It’s ‘cause I’m cursed.”

You wouldn’t be lying if you said his hand scared you a bit, but you take it in yours anyway and give it a reassuring squeeze, much to his surprise. “I’m not mad at him. I was just a tad disappointed is all. And stop saying you’re cursed or that it’s your fault. You’re just a little kid who’s different, okay?”

He wavers a bit, but nods. He tugs his strange hand away from you and hides it behind his back. “‘kay.” Allen watches you a few more minutes, or more accurately, the charm you’ve retied around your wrist. “Why’d Mana give ya that?”

“He said it would protect me from monsters,” you reply with a shrug.

Allen purses his lips. “That’s not what it says though.”

“Oh? You can read it?”

“Yeah. It says, ‘I love you.’”

You nearly drop your wooden spoon. “Really?!”

“Yup.” He frowns at the polished stone. “I think it says, ‘Keep her safe’ on the other side, so maybe it _is_ s’posed to keep monsters away.”

It’s then that Mana returns, looking far more relaxed now. “Is there anything we can help you with?”

“Food’s just about ready, so if you two could set the table, that’d be great.” You gesture to the cabinet that has your mix-matched set of plates.

Allen eats enough for three people and would have kept going if you’d made more. You make a mental note to cook extra tomorrow morning if they spend the night, which is looking likely as Allen begins nodding off right at the table. Much like before, you make the offer, Allen pleads (a little more sleepily this time), Mana tries to refuse, you point out it’s no trouble and in fact better for everyone if they accept, and Mana gives in.

Within a half hour, you’re laying a blanket over Allen on the couch and commenting to Mana, “It’s a little early to turn in. Think he’ll be okay, going to bed so soon?” Though with the bags under his eyes, it’s probably for the best.

“He needs a good night’s sleep.” Mana smiles down at the child, and you’re struck by how much they look like father and son even if Allen denies it.

You ask, “Is he yours?”

Mana tilts his head. “Mine?”

“Your son.”

“Ah, no, no. He’s…” Mana looks a little puzzled again, like he can’t quite remember what this boy is to him. “I asked him to join me because he seemed so familiar, but he’s not my son. He reminds me of someone… but who was it…?”

His memory wasn’t this spotty last year. Sure, he told some tall tales, but… You shake your head. “It’s quite the coincidence that his name’s Allen too.”

“Too?”

“Allen, like your dog. What happened to that little guy anyway?”

“Dog? But Allen’s…” He frowns, shakes his head. “Allen’s been with me a while, hasn’t he? He was here with me last time.”

Oh… oh no. He really has gone around the bend. You just hope he’s conflating his old companion with the boy and not the other way around. To be mistaken for a dog would hurt more than simply being forgotten.

The two of you stay up a little longer and talk in low voices so as not to wake Allen. The boy is dead to the world, and you’re pretty sure that nothing sort of a meteor crashing through your roof would have any effect.

As the hour grows later, you invite Mana to sleep in your room. “Just to sleep,” you add quickly when he opens his mouth to refuse. “There’s not enough space for both you and Allen on that sofa, so you’ll both be more comfortable that way.”

Mana considers Allen, who gives a contented little sigh as he snuggles into the sofa cushions, then agrees.

* * *

Sometime in the night, Mana must have rolled over because when you wake, you find yourself wrapped up in his arms. Your face is pressed to his chest, and even though he showered the day before, you can still smell the lingering scent of campfire smoke on his clothes. You let your eyes slide shut and snuggle closer.

Mana nuzzles the top of your head and holds you just a little more tightly. “Good morning,” he murmurs into your hair.

“Good morning,” you mumble back, though you have no idea what time it is. It’s still dark outside beyond your curtains, but it’s still early enough in the year that that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. “Did you sleep okay?”

He makes a noise you take for an affirmative, and then he tilts your face up with a finger under your chin and presses his lips to yours. When he pulls back, you feel the heat rising to your face.

“Would it be terrible of me,” he asks, his voice still a little husky from sleep despite the teasing lilt, “to offer an encore of last time?”

You rub the sleep from your eyes and glance at your clock. It’s still way too early, a little after four. Would Allen hear you? The walls in your flat are blessedly thick and Allen could probably sleep through anything if the evening prior were any indication, so probably not.

But there’s also the teensy tiny matter of his being a little more off than last time. More awake now, you say, “I don’t mind, but are you sure _you_ want to?”

His answer is to kiss you long and deeply. You close your eyes and slip your arms around his neck. When your lips part, you’re a little dazed, but there’s also a pleasant prickling along your skin.

He grazes a thumb along your cheek, then leans in for another kiss. Your mind goes blank as your mouths move together, his tongue finding yours and coaxing it to dance with his. Mana rolls you both so that your above him, straddling him, and you can feel his growing enthusiasm. You break away, breathless and blushing.

Mana’s hand travels up your thigh, slipping under your nightgown to palm your ass. You let out a squeak of surprise and feel your face grow even hotter. His smile is open and teasing as his fingers play with the fabric of your panties.

“How would you like it?”

“W-what do you mean?”

He props himself up on his elbows. “Would you like to try being on top? Or…”

Oh. _Oh_. Suddenly flustered, you can’t think of any kind of response, let alone a good one. “I-I don’t… um… You decide.”

“Well that’s no fun,” he sing-songs. Slightly more seriously, he adds, “I want you to enjoy yourself too. If there is anything you want to try, please tell me. If it’s within my ability, I would happily do it for you.”

It would be a lie to say you’ve never thought about doing this again, but if you were being honest with yourself, your imagination is rather vanilla. Mostly, you just replayed in your mind what Mana had done to you last time if you felt the need for daydreams of this nature.

Though one idea does come to mind at his offer. You say, “I… really liked it when you… um… kissed my leg.”

No sooner are the words out then are his lips on yours. He changes positions, pressing you onto your back and then trailing kiss after kiss along your jaw, the column of your throat, your collarbone. As his mouth roams, kissing and nipping little red marks onto your skin, he lifts the hem of your nightgown, and leaving your flesh for a moment, pulls it up and over your head.

Each kiss makes your whole body thrum with pleasure as his lips make their way lower and lower. He takes his time kissing and sucking your breasts, first one, then the other. Satisfied with his handiwork, Mana continues on his way, across your stomach to the ache between your legs. You blush as he takes in the sight of your damp panties and are relieved when he moves on to kissing your inner thigh near your knee. Slowly he makes his way toward your core again, pauses right at the edge of your panties, and asks, “Shall I kiss you here, too?”

Your face is on fire as you yelp, “No!” You take a shaky breath as he traces his thumb back and forth on your thigh. “No… I…” Part of you wants him to, but you’re too embarrassed.

Understanding, he presses a kiss to your skin just above your panties and makes his way up again to your lips. The familiar taste of his lips and tongue soothes away the awkwardness, and you find yourself fiddling with his shirt, not necessarily aiming to unbutton it but doing so all the same. The shirt falls open, and he shrugs it off before wrapping his arms around you again.

You can feel his excitement through his pants as he pulls you into his lap. He runs his thumb along your cheek again, a tender smile on his face as his eyes meet yours. “Do you want to keep going?”

Yes. Yes you do. You kiss him again, then scoot back to rid yourself of your underwear and give him a chance to do the same with his pants. Even though you’ve done this before, the butterflies are back with a vengeance as you spread your legs for him.

A gasp escapes you as he presses into you. It’s been a while since you’ve felt this stretch, and realizing this, Mana stills to let you get used to him inside you again.

Once you’re comfortable, he begins to move, thrusting slowly at first with small strokes before increasing the length. He guides your leg to rest around his waist, making you moan at the change in angle. You press your heel into the small of his back, mind going entirely blank once more as he picks up the pace.

There’s a tightening in your core as he makes love to you, and you desperately cling to Mana. You try to keep quiet, but you can’t help the wonton noises escaping you as he plunges into you again and again. Mana takes a shuddering breath as he kisses along your jaw, and he slides his fingers between the two of you to rub your clit.

The dam breaks and you think you see stars behind your closed eyelids as you climax. Mana wastes no time in pulling out, and you feel him jerk against your clit. Something hot splashes across your belly and the underside of your breasts, and when your breath finally evens out and you’re able to open your eyes, you see his softening cock dripping seed onto the bed of curls between your legs.

Both of you are thoroughly spent and covered in sweat. He gives you one last long, languid kiss that steals the air from your lungs, and then he slips out of bed. Your limbs feel heavy, and you just can’t seem to will yourself to sit up when he returns with a damp towel to clean you both up.

“Did I overdo it?” he asks you when he lays back down beside you.

You snuggle closer and shake your head. “It was great. Thank you.” You’re already falling asleep in his arms, and the way he caresses your hair just lulls you into a deep slumber even faster.

* * *

You awake to the clatter of pots and pans and jolt up in bed. Your heart is in your throat as you hurry out of your room to the source of the cacophony, holding your robe closed around you.

What you find are Mana and Allen attempting to make you breakfast. You say _attempting_ , because they’ve just managed to dump all of your cookware to the floor while trying to reach the large pan you normally use for pancakes. The boy’s eyes are wide as he takes in your state of undress, your nakedness barely hidden by the robe you wrap just a little more tightly around yourself.

Mana is quick to apologize for the mess. “We were going to let you sleep a little longer and surprise you with breakfast,” he explains. Allen nods in agreement. “We’ll clean this up, don’t worry.” Another mute nod from Allen.

“Oh,” is all you can say, still a little stunned by the mess. Another pot rolls off the counter and clangs to the ground.

A bright if slightly goofy smile flits across Mana’s face. “So take your time getting ready this morning. We’ll handle this out here.” You mimic Allen’s earlier silent nod, so Mana prompts, “Why not relax and take a bath for a bit? We’ll let you know when breakfast is ready.”

Allen finally breaks his vow of silence with a grumbled, “ _Ugh,”_ under his breath before more loudly snapping, “At least get some clothes on or somethin’!”

Your face heats up and you hurry back to your room. Whelp, if he didn’t know what happened before, he does now. As you close your bedroom door, you get confirmation of this when you hear Allen yell at Mana, “And ya better not forget her this time!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the part that really inspired the dare that created this fanfic. My friend and I thought it would be hilarious to have Allen be confronted with the idea that his father had sex and have him use foul language.


	3. Duke Millennium

You don’t see hide nor hair of Allen and Mana for years. During that time, Wyatt proposes, and you accept. You do tell him about your brief liaison with one Mana Campbell—or Walker, or whoever he is, really—before it gets too far, but Wyatt takes it in stride.

“It doesn’t matter what you did before I asked you to marry me. What matters is from here on out, and I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my days with you.”

His parents are happy with the match. They think you a nice girl with quite the talent in theater. Quitting acting never comes up. In fact, Wyatt encourages you. “You love it, don’t you? And I love watching you. You should keep doing it.” He even continues to attend every show and brings you flowers to the point where your coworkers tease him for wasted effort when he’s already won your heart.

His siblings are another story. The family is nouveau riche, and they had hoped he would marry someone with a title. They disapprove and make it obvious even after the wedding, but Wyatt laughs it off and says they’re just afraid to lose him to someone as pretty and smart as you.

You both try for a family of your own right away, but after almost a year without the least hint of success it becomes apparent something’s wrong. A visit to the doctor confirms it: Wyatt is largely sterile, likely from a bad case of the mumps as a child. You think he would be upset with how much he loves kids, but he just shrugs off the news. “If it’s not meant to be, it’s not meant to be. We can always adopt when we’re ready.”

Alas, you’re never ‘ready.’ Though you talk it over and even visit an orphanage to meet some children, before you can decide on anything, Wyatt falls ill. At first, it doesn’t seem like anything serious. He’s just a little more tired than usual, a little less enthusiastic even during activities you both enjoy. Soon, there are days when he can’t even get out of bed. He insists it’s a cold or that he didn’t sleep well the night before. When he feels especially cheeky, he tells you it’s because you’re far too skilled in bed for your own good.

His health begins to deteriorate, and by the time you convince him to see the doctor again, it’s too late. Not that there was much they could do if he had gone for help sooner, but they might have bought him another few decades rather than the few short years they give him now.

He makes an effort to keep coming to your every show, and you push yourself to give each performance your all. Over the years, though, he can come less and less. Early on, it’s just a missed show here and there. Sometimes he leaves at intermission, though he always leaves flowers for you in your dressing room when he does. Eventually, he can only hope to make one in the couple of weeks you put on any single play, and so he always aims for opening night.

Wyatt grows thinner and more exhausted with each passing month. A little more than five years into your marriage, you know ‘till death do you part’ is coming sooner than either of you ever thought possible. You do your best to keep going, to keep smiling if only for him, but it gets harder with each passing day.

* * *

It’s a frosty winter morning when you spy a familiar Pierrot costume. You stop in your tracks as you take in the sight. It can’t be. Can’t _possibly_ be him. But the makeup is the same and so are the clothes.

Then you realize as the performer flits about with a hat to collect tips from the crowd that he’s too short to be Mana. He’s at least half a foot shorter and, though it’s hard to tell with all that makeup, much, much younger. When the hat reaches you, he freezes for a split second, silver eyes wide in recognition.

It’s your day off today, so you decide to wait at the café across the street from the park for the clown you’ve recognized as none other than that little boy all grown up. You make sure he sees where you sit down, and then settle in with a cup of tea and some scones.

He joins you maybe an hour later, pale face flushed from the cold and a bandana tied around his head, partially for warmth and partially to hide the snowy white hair beneath. Etched onto his cheek is a ragged scar, but that face is unmistakably Allen’s.

“It’s been a while,” you say, inviting him to sit across from you. He hesitates, then takes the chair. You pour him some tea from a fresh pot and push the plate of scones and jam toward him. Again, a moment’s hesitation before he accepts.

“You’re… Miss (L/N), right? Mana’s… friend.”

Tact comes with age apparently. You find yourself smiling at this change as you reply, “Yes, but it’s Jones now.”

Allen spots the ring on your finger. “Oh! Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Your smile slips just a bit though.

He notices this too. “Is everything okay? You… um… I mean, I know I don’t know you well and it’s presumptuous of me to say so, but… you seem sad.”

 _So much like Mana,_ you think. Allen was perceptive back then too, but he’s become polite to a fault. “Yes well...” You want nothing more than to talk to someone about this. You’re tired of being strong. “Wyatt—my husband—isn’t doing so well. He’s been sick a long time, but…” Your acting fails you entirely and you wipe tears from your eyes.

Allen pulls a handkerchief from his pocket for you, but it’s one of the ones from his act and three colorful scarves come out with it. He quickly stuffs that back in and retrieves a regular one from his other pocket for you to dab your eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s been a long time coming. I just… it’s not fair. He… I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.”

He takes your hand and gives it a comforting squeeze. For a few minutes, he lets you cry and offers you platitudes, like “I’m sorry” or “I know it’s hard, but you’ll be okay.” Once you get the tears under control, however, he says, “He’s still here, right? You should spend what time you can with him. So you can have as many memories with him as you can.”

A few of your coworkers have said the same thing. That’s why you refused the leading role for the current show and gone back to being glorified extra. Wyatt had said, “Everyone needs a break sometimes,” when you told him, but you could see the guilt for holding you back.

“Still, though… when the time comes… don’t wish for him to come back.”

You can’t help the giggle that bubbles up. _So much like Mana._ “What, you believe in your father’s monsters now too?”

That throws him a little. “Monsters?”

“Oh, he never told you that bit of nonsense?” You finger the charm around your neck. “Those… what did he call them… Akuma, I think. One of his crazy stories was that if you wish someone back from the dead, they’ll become a demon and be forced to hurt you and others for the rest of eternity.”

Allen’s mouth falls open. The way he’s acting, you wonder if that story wasn’t as made up as you originally thought. Even so, you’ve played enough dead lovers to know trying to bring people back from the dead doesn’t work out well for anyone involved. “I won’t go resurrecting the dead, don’t worry. It’s not like it can really happen anyway.”

But, if you were given the chance, _would_ you do it…? You decide changing the subject to something more pleasant is in order. “So how’s Mana doing these days? Did he finally retire from life on the road and settle down somewhere?”

For a few moments, you indulge in the mental image of Mana beaming in a rocker on a porch somewhere relaying his impossible stories of golems and magic to the local kids until Allen informs you that he passed away a few years ago. Your already breaking heart fractures. You don’t let Allen see you cry though. There hadn’t been anything more serious between that crazy clown and you than a few one-night stands and you hadn’t seen him in… had it already been nine years? You had no right to cry, not when it looks like Allen had suffered so much more than you had.

You pay for your and Allen’s tea, then invite him back to your house since you “aren’t going to let your ‘cousin’ freeze to death.” Your maid Anna rolls her eyes at the sudden addition to your family when she comes home late from her afternoon and evening off but doesn’t comment or check on your guest who's already gone up to bed.

Allen only spends one night and has disappeared from the guest bedroom before you wake the next morning. Just like his father, he leaves a note, though his handwriting is atrocious when compared to Mana’s. In it, he thanks you for your hospitality and wishes you all the best. You place this note in a drawer, next to the two Mana had left you all those years ago.

* * *

The house feels emptier now that Wyatt’s really gone. It’s hard to believe you’ll never see him again. It’s already been a week, but it still hurts. You’ve hardly left the house, and the theater’s manager has told you that he’d welcome you back when you’re ready. You’re not sure you’ll ever get there.

“Ma’am,” says Anna from the doorway of your sitting room, “you have a visitor. A… Duke Millennium. Shall I show him in?”

Do you know anyone by that name? You don’t think so. A friend of Wyatt’s then, here to offer his condolences. “Sure. Might as well.”

You set your face into the neutral mask you’ve perfected since running out of tears. Anna pours some tea for you and your guest, a large man with an impossibly huge and comical grin on his face despite the reason for his visit, then leaves the two of you alone.

He sips the tea and says in far too friendly a way, “I’m so sorry to hear about your dear sweet Wyatt. He was taken from us far too soon.”

This is a phrase you’ve heard far too many times in the last few days. You give a mechanical nod. He continues, “A shame. Truly a shame. Though there _is_ a way for you to see him again.”

Not a friend of Wyatt’s. More likely a charlatan looking to take advantage of a grieving widow. You decide to play along for a few minutes, if only because it’s nice to talk to someone whose motives are so easily read. “And how do you propose that? Spirit photography? A séance? One of those spirit boards I’ve heard so much about lately?”

The duke gives a cheery little chortle. “Oho, such a good joke. No, what I propose is far better than any of that. I can bring him back from that God who took him away from you. All you need to do is call his name.”

Your expression slips from practiced neutrality into one of disbelief. He takes this as an encouraging sign and persists. “It’s true! You could have him back as early as this afternoon if you’d like. Just imagine, your dear Wyatt returned to—”

Something stirs inside you. For the first time in a long time, anger bubbles to the surface past the numbness. You set your teacup down. “Please leave.”

He tilts his head. “What was that?”

“I want you to go now. The dead don’t come back.”

Another chuckle. “Oh, but they _can_. I have that power.”

It’s rare that you use such colorful language, but this seems like the time and place. “Fuck off.”

You feel a twinge of fear as he stands and towers over you. He takes your chin in his hand and forces you to look up into his face. His eyes are cold and hard behind his spectacles, and suddenly, that smile feels far more malicious than friendly.

“Such _language,_ ” he murmurs, clicking his tongue like a schoolteacher scolding a child. “I came all this way to help, but you’re so heartbroken you can’t see reason.”

It might be digging your own grave, but you don’t really care. “I see reason just fine. What you’re proposing is impossible.”

Duke Millennium lifts his free hand in a shrug. “Perhaps, but what do you have to lose? I ask no money. I just hate to see a pretty young lady like yourself so sad.” He pauses, then leans in to examine your face more closely. “You… _are_ sad, aren’t you? So sad you could die just to bring him back?”

He sounds confused, and there’s something there in his voice that is eerily familiar. Your heart jackhammers in your chest as he brushes a thumb along your cheek in a parody of an intimate gesture. “Do you not want to see him again?” His voice is quiet. “Or… is there someone _else_ in your heart that you’ve replaced him with already?”

He’s twisting the knife to try and get his way. You won’t let him. “There are only two people I’ve ever loved, and they’re both dead.” Even if your feelings for Mana were less for the man himself and more for the phantom in your memory anymore. “It might be hard for you to believe this, but not everyone’s desperate to make deals with the devil. I’m not bringing either of them back no matter how much you pester me.”

His face moves just a little closer as he searches your face. “So _honest_ ,” he whispers. “Tell me, Child, why wouldn’t you want them back? Didn’t you love them?”

You try to turn away, to pull back and get away from this man, but he holds firm. There’s a hint of melancholy in his voice as he says, “You don’t recognize me at all, do you…?”

Something dark slips over your eyes like a blindfold, and you feel yourself pushed down on the sofa. You try to protest, but lips far too human to belong to this monster swallow those sounds before they can escape. He guides your hand to touch a gaunt cheek and scruffy beard. His tongue runs along your lower lip, gently seeking permission to slip into your mouth.

When you don’t reciprocate, he backs off. You gasp for air and try to shove him away when you feel his breath ghosting your lips as he leans in for another kiss. He catches your wrist, and you feel him touch the little charm you have tied there. A choked sob precedes the blindfold falling away, and you’re met with an unexpected sight.

The form of the duke has split in two and within the gaping maw of the costume-like suit stands none other than Mana Campbell, tears streaming down his face as he stares at the polished carved stone he gave you a decade ago. He looks different, though. His skin is darker, and cross-shaped scars stand out prominently on his forehead. His gaze finds yours. “You… held onto this? All this time?”

You open your mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. You don’t know what you would say anyway. This man is supposed to be _dead_. Why was he here now? And wearing a ridiculous disguise and offering you a chance to bring your late husband back from the dead when he told you stories of how badly that could and _would_ go?

Finally, you find your voice. “Ma—?!” but you’re interrupted when he buries his face in the crook of your neck. So surprised by this are you that you don’t notice the costume vanish into his shadow as he clings to you weeping. Awkwardly, you flail your arms, unsure what to do when met with someone who shouldn’t be here crying into your shoulder, but eventually, you give him a few pats on the back in a lame attempt at comfort.

He whispers your name against your neck and presses a soft kiss there. He does this, over and over, moving up a little each time until you’re face-to-face. He moves to kiss your lips, but you move a hand to block him. “Mana, I just lost my _husband_ ,” you tell him, and you’re not sure if you’re more irritated by him or distressed by the reminder of your loss.

Mana looks so lost in that moment. “But I’m not Mana. I’m not. I’m _not!_ ” He staggers back from you, head in his hands, and nearly topples over your coffee table. And then he’s gone in the blink of an eye. The only proof he’d ever been there is the extra teacup on the table and the lingering sensation of his lips against yours.

* * *

How is this possible? How is _any_ of this possible? Allen had said Mana died. He wouldn’t lie to you, would he? Unless Mana had tricked him and faked his death for some reason… but why?

It’s been a few weeks since Duke Millennium, or Mana Campbell or Walker or _whoever_ he is now, visited. These questions and more just like them rattle through your head constantly as you go about your day, and part of you welcomes the distraction. You’re still mourning, but it’s not so all encompassing now. You like to think Wyatt, lover of a good mystery as he was, would not only forgive you for busying yourself with finding answers to this but want to look for clues as well.

And two just happen to knock on your front door.

“Ma’am, there’s a Lord Tyki Mikk and a Mr. Wisely Kamelot here to see you.”

You glance up from the personal effects you’ve willed yourself to sort through. It had been a while since you’d heard the name Tyki Mikk, not since before Wyatt took a turn for the worse. You’re pretty sure you attended a party with your husband hosted by Minister Kamelot and met him there. “Show them to the sitting room. I’ll be there in a moment.”

The two make quite the pair. Tyki Mikk, tall and handsome as he was the last time with his curly hair and amber eyes, stands beside the seated Wisely Kamelot, who smiles warmly at you. “We heard about Mr. Jones,” the brown-haired teen says. “We were in the area and wanted to give our condolences.”

You’re a little tired of these belated well-wishers, but you’ve gotten better at showing them the face they want to see. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Wisely seems to be watching you like a specimen in a jar. You don’t like the way he looks at you, like he’s seeing past your face into something deeper. As if hearing that thought, his grin broadens, sending a shudder up your spine.

“We also wanted to stop by to ask a small favor,” says Tyki. “A dear family member of ours hasn’t been feeling well these last few weeks. He was quite the fan of your acting in _The Promised Tomorrow_ , and we hoped you might visit him.”

That’s a play you haven’t heard about in a long time. You can’t help but say, “ _That_ play? Are you sure he didn’t mean _Toward our Tomorrows_?” The only good thing about the one Tyki mentioned was meeting Mana that first time. Everything else, from the dialogue to the writer and funder were _awful_.

Wisely chuckles as if reading your mind, even though you _know_ your features show not even an inkling of how much you detest that show. “Nope, it was definitely _The Promised Tomorrow_. He said you were quite passionate and brought the material to life.”

Anna comes in and bustles about with a tray of tea and cookies. At last Tyki sits and helps himself to a few. Seeing that they won’t be leaving quickly, you too take a seat and sip at your tea.

“We won’t take much more of your time,” Wisely says. “We just want to arrange for you to visit. You’re taking a break from the theater these days, are you not?”

You sigh. “I’m afraid I’m not up for visiting much of anyone these days.”

“A change of scenery would do you good. Besides, I think you’d _love_ to meet him.”

The way he says this gives you the impression that this won’t be a simple social call. What are they after? Money? Sex? While you have enough to live on comfortably even if you don’t return to acting, it hardly compares to the fortune you’ve heard the Kamelots have, and you’re hardly the pretty young starlet you used to be, so you doubt the latter as well.

“Oh, you’re still quite young and pretty,” Wisely remarks offhandedly. Tyki elbows him sharply in the ribs.

Your head jerks up. _Wait, is he really reading my mind?_

Wisely answers your unspoken question, “I am.”

You jump to your feet and retreat from them. Wisely doesn’t look the least bit bothered. “You there,” he calls to Anna, “don’t let her leave.”

Your maid curtsies. “Yes, Master Wisely.”

Before you even comprehend what’s happening, Anna takes you by the shoulders and forces you back into your seat. Her grip on you is so strong, you can already feel bruises forming. You gape up at her. There’s now a black star in the middle of her face and what looks like mascara tear stains on her cheeks.

Those monsters that Mana told you about… The Akuma… Your blood runs cold. Was Anna one of those all along?

“She was indeed,” Wisely says, flaunting his ability at this point. “The Earl took quite the shine to you, so we decided to keep an eye on you. Especially,” and here he flicks the little polished stone pendant around your neck, “when he gives you such a powerful protection charm.”

You swallow back your fear. “It’s just a rock with scribbles—”

“It’s a gift from the Earl. So long as you have it, none of the Akuma will harm you.”

“Well,” Tyki says with a smug smirk, “they won’t kill you any.”

Your fingers dig into your skirt. “What do you really want?”

Wiseley is tiring of you. You can see it in his eyes. “As I said, the Earl’s quite the fan of yours and wants to see you. He’s had quite the time of it lately, so we thought a little distraction was in order.”

A… distraction? Heat blossoms in your cheeks when you realize his meaning, and Wiseley grins at you. “It’s not like you haven’t done it before with him. And,” unlike before, you can _feel_ something digging around in your brain, “it seems you rather enjoyed it.”

You balk at this invasion of privacy. “I refuse.”

Tyki lets out a laugh. “You don’t get much of a choice here.”

“I still refuse.”

Wisely sets down his empty cup. “Then you can tell him so yourself. Our job is only to fetch you.”

Tyki takes you from the Akuma that had played the role of your maid, scooping you up bridal style with one arm around your back and the other under your knee. You struggle, but he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered until you strike his chest. Then he nearly drops you with a curse. “Why didn’t you bring Sheril or Road?” he asks the teen, who shrugs.

“I thought she might fall for your pretty face, but I guess not.”

You’re about to hit Tyki again, but it’s as if the floor gives out underneath the three of you. A scream tears from your throat as you feel yourself falling. Then all goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that this is the only Mana/Reader fic on Ao3. How is this not a tag full of fluffy romances?
> 
> Also, rereading I realized that I didn't make it clear that Allen didn't actually see your Akuma maid, which is why he didn't react. I rewrote that scene a little to make it clearer that that's what happened


	4. The Clan of Noah

Your eyes snap open and you sit bolt upright. You have no idea where you are, nor how you got here. Vaguely you remember the sensation of falling, but after that… it’s blank. Did they do something to you?

“No, you just fainted.”

You nearly jump out of your skin and scramble off the sofa they’d laid you on. “This is kidnapping!”

“We wield Akuma to kill humans,” Wisely reminds you. “What’s a little kidnapping compared to that?” He twirls your necklace by the string. “And if you try to tell anyone, we won’t hesitate to do the same to you, Earl’s lover or not.”

The color drains from your face and you feel lightheaded again. Wisely stops playing with your lucky charm and pockets it. “We’ll give it back once you talk to the Millennium Earl. How about that?”

You eye him warily. “I just have to talk? Nothing else?”

“Well, he might be disappointed if you don’t at least make out with—” He flinches as if you’ve struck him, which you suppose you have on a mental level. He rubs his temples, looking a little green. “Shouldn’t you be happy that your former lover’s actually an earl and still interested? That’s fairy tale romance stuff.”

Except you’ve never particularly liked fairy tale romances. Even when you were a kid you saw them as impractical. Given the choice, you’d have been happier without your life working like a script for some tragic romance.

Wisely grins despite the migraine that seems to be starting and rises from his perch on the opposite sofa. “The Earl’s had business to take care of, so he won’t be back until later this evening.”

“So you kidnapped me, and the reason you did isn’t even here.” Your voice is flat.

“You could always play with Road for a bit. I’m sure she’d love a new toy.”

You heard the name Road before when you’d hit Tyki and successfully caused him some pain. That and the way he calls you a _toy_ has you fearing for your safety. At least, until he greets the person in question and she flings herself at you with a gleeful giggle.

“You’re even prettier than I thought you’d be,” she coos, and you find yourself face-to-face with a little girl of maybe twelve or thirteen. “No wonder Millennie likes you so much.”

Millennie? Does she mean Mana?

Wisely pauses at the sitting room door to call back, “He doesn’t go by that name anymore. In fact, don’t mention it at all.”

“Call him Millennium Earl or Lord Millennium,” Road adds helpfully. Then, with an angelic smile that bellies her next words, she says, “Or if you want a proper name to scream when he’s going down on you, Adam will do nicely.”

This goes far beyond the precociousness and parroting Allen had shown as a child straight into sexual harassment. You’re at a complete loss for words at this otherwise well-bred young lady’s statement. There’s _no way_ she learned that from her family. At least, you hope not. Now you’re seriously questioning the morals of the Kamelots. They apparently don’t stop at threats of murder and dabble in corrupting the youth as well. You hear Wisely snort as he leaves.

The little girl laughs brightly at your shocked expression and takes you by the hand. “Millennie says you bake really good cookies,” she says, abruptly changing the subject as she leads you down the hall. “Can you teach me?”

From the way Wisely had spoken of her earlier and Tyki before that, a request for cooking lessons wasn’t at all what you expected the girl to ask for. It’s an innocuous enough request, and though still suspicious of this little girl who only half-acts her age, you agree.

What follows is an afternoon of girl talk and sweets. She peppers you with millions of questions, most of them age-appropriate and innocent—“What’s it like being an actress?” or “How’d you meet Millennie?”—though there are a few that are less so—“What was it like when he popped your cherry? Did it hurt?” You don’t answer the latter. You’re not sure you would breathe a word of that even to your closest confidant, and here was this _child_ you didn’t really know wanting all the intimate details. What’s worse, you can’t be quite sure whether this is just the curiosity of a girl on the cusp of puberty or if she’s purposely messing with you. They’re reasonable questions to have, ones you yourself would have asked if you’d had the courage (though you’re pretty sure you weren’t _that_ young when you began thinking of them). You just don’t feel comfortable answering them for someone else’s child with your own personal experience.

Maybe earlier _was_ just her parroting something she’d overheard someone say?

When she asks, “Did you let him finish inside you?” you stop her.

“ _Please_ don’t ask me that! It’s embarrassing enough having your-your… ugh, whatever Wisely is to you snooping!”

“He’s my big brother,” she chirrups, “and thanks for telling me he knows! I’ll have to get the details from him later.”

Even more flustered now, you cry, “Don’t you care about Mana’s privacy?!”

She grins. “Oh, I already know _lots_ and _lots_ about you two. He dreams about you a lot, you know. Most of it’s innocent, but sometimes it gets _really_ _scandalous_. I wanna know how true it all is.”

Great. Either Mana tells this _little girl_ about his sex life in minute detail or she can spy on people’s dreams. With her brother able to read minds, you wonder if all the Kamelots have psychic abilities or magic.

“And don’t call him that by the way,” Road tells you. “You’ll upset him if you do.”

“Don’t call who what?”

Road squeals and launches at Mana, who has stopped in the doorway to the kitchen upon seeing her inside. He gives the girl an indulgent pat on the head like he used to give Allen as she lies to him, “I was just telling (F/N) how you tease Tyki-pon with his nickname and that she shouldn’t do that ‘cause he’ll get _super_ mad.”

His hand freezes mid-pat. “…(F/N)?” Slowly, he looks up from Road to stare disbelievingly at you in the Kamelot kitchen wearing one of the cooks’ aprons like you’re a ghost. “What are you doing here?”

“Wisely and Tyki-pon happened to bump into her and she asked to visit you, but you weren’t back yet so I asked her to teach me to make tea cookies!” explains Road. She skips back to the cooling rack, grabs a few, and offers them to the Earl. “Bet you can’t guess which ones are mine and which are (F/N)’s!”

You’re impressed when he does. Due to the distraction of Road’s more personal questions, you’re normally uniform cookies are lumpy while hers are practically perfect. “Do you think Daddy will like them?” she asks excitedly.

Mana pats her on the head again. “He’ll be so happy he might just faint.”

This makes Road’s smile grow even wider, and she hurries to collect her cookies on a plate. “You two enjoy your _date!_ ” she practically sings as she skips for the door. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Your face burns as you hide it behind your hands. Before you weren’t sure if Road was just messing with you, but now you’re certain. Especially as Mana turns pink from her teasing as well.

He hides it well enough when he asks you if you’ve eaten yet, and you shake your head. Mana offers you his hand. “Then allow me to treat you.”

It feels both wrong and exciting for him to take you out to dinner, even if it’s only to a local bistro. Mana doesn’t question Road’s story in the least that you wanted to see him and for now seems happy with polite impersonal conversation. You only hope that Wisely will keep his word and return your charm for this. The Earl orders for you both, having remembered an offhand comment you made all those years ago about your favorite dish. He tells you that nowhere in the city is that dish better than in this little restaurant he stumbled upon a few years ago, and he thought of you the instant he saw it on the menu.

Part of you wonders how true that is.

The sun is low in the sky when you return to the Kamelot estate. As much as you dislike the man, you had hoped that Wisely would be waiting for you to take you home. Fate doesn’t smile upon you. He and Tyki snuck out shortly after you and Mana left, and they hadn’t come back yet. You just hope they return before you have to make excuses to Minister Kamelot and his wife for why you now need to spend the night.

To buy yourself some time, you ask Mana about the Kamelot’s garden. Back at that party you attended with Wyatt, you’re pretty sure you remember talking with Mrs. Kamelot about it if briefly. Mana leads you to a hot house filled to bursting with tropical plants. The air is heavy with their heady scent.

You find a bench among the vegetation spilling over with flowers, but Mana remains standing. For want of something better, you comment, “It’s lovely in here. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many flowers.”

Mana touches one of the blooms. “Tricia’s never been in the best of health, so Sheril spares no expense to keep this piece of Eden for her.”

Silence descends upon you both again. You’ve exhausted the polite and impersonal. All that’s left is questions you have for Mana that you don’t dare ask. You suspect that he wouldn’t tell you anything about how he found himself among the nobility, nor why he hid himself behind that mask of Duke Millennium rather than just come out and tell you who he was.

“(F/N).” You look up to find he’s kneeling before you now. “The other day… you said there were two people you loved who had passed. Was there really someone else?”

You stare at your hands, which he takes in his. He brushes a gloved thumb across the back. “You really are a silly clown,” you reply, laughing bitterly. At his confused head tilt, you say, “I was talking about you.”

“But I’m not dead.”

“Allen told me you were.”

He looks even more confused. “Allen?”

You shake your head. Of course he’s forgotten that little boy he’d taken under his wing. “Never mind. I heard you died a few days before Wyatt did, and it broke my heart.” Not nearly. Wholly and truly shattered it.

Mana’s face softens, and he caresses your cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. He doesn’t try to kiss you. He learned his lesson last time. Instead, he moves to sit next to you. “I never meant to hurt you.”

A wry laugh slips past your lips. “You certainly tried the other day.” You turn to him and ask, “Why would you do that? Why come in some ridiculous disguise and ask me to resurrect my husband after you warned me not to?”

Each question seems like a stake in his heart. He winces and can’t look you in the eye. “I… don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t remember. I…” He holds his head in his hands and shakes ever so slightly. “I need more Akuma,” he says, his tone suddenly changing to light and airy. “Humans are so selfish; they’ll steal souls back from that God of theirs just because they can. Their loved ones are supposed to be in paradise, but they’ll condemn them to eternal suffering just so they don’t have to say goodbye. It’s laughable, don’t you think?” And he grins at you.

Despite the warning bells in the back of your mind, you still ask hesitantly, “Aren’t you human?”

“I am of the clan of Noah,” he replies simply as if that should mean something. He brushes his fingers against your cheek again. “I only wish you were as well, my dear, sweet Eve.”

He leans in to kiss you, but you jerk away and jump to your feet. You remember what Road told you earlier: ‘ _Adam will do_.’ So he thinks your the Eve to his Adam? “Ma—” you stop yourself, remembering Road and Wisely’s warnings. It wouldn’t do to upset him when they still held all the cards. “Lord Millennium, I’m not Eve.”

“But you are,” he insists. He stands and pulls you close. “You don’t feel it now? I’m sure you did back then.” You try to push him away, but his arms are strong around you. “You trusted me in your home, a total stranger, not once but twice. You offered me your first time with a man. You even said you loved me despite not knowing anything about me.”

“That’s not… that doesn’t mean anything!” You struggle to slip out of his arms, but he holds firm. “I let you stay because you had nowhere else to go, and I couldn’t let you freeze to death! And I only asked you because…” Because you were young and stupid? Because Mana seemed like a better option than that patron? Both are true, but there’s no denying the fluttery feeling in your chest that first time he’d kissed you. “I had a crush on you. I thought you were sweet and kind of handsome and that I’d rather it be you than some patron treating me like a whore. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. I just… didn’t want to… regret who I chose…”

Your voice has diminished by the end. “You said yourself that things don’t always make sense.”

He tilts your chin up. “They don’t,” he agrees. “That’s why you’re my Eve. There’s no reason I should want a human like you, and yet I do. No woman has ever charmed me the way you have.”

His lips press to yours, and you find that this time, you don’t want to pull away anymore. Your fingernails dig into his coat as you reciprocate, almost feeling drunk as he deepens the kiss. Tongues meet, and you feel both like your drowning and like you never want to come up for air again. When you part, heavily breathing in the perfumed air, you find yourself lost in those golden eyes. Mana leans in to capture your lips again when you hear someone clear their throat.

You nearly jump out of your skin and wrench yourself free of Mana’s embrace. Minister Kamelot frowns at the two of you. No, mostly at you, and not just frowning. He’s glaring with open hostility. “Who are you?”

Mana smiles brightly as he introduces you. He doesn’t mention the name Eve, just that you’re _very dear_ to him and that he thinks Sheril will get on fabulously with you. You’re not so sure. Especially when Sheril says, his voice barely even, “Isn’t this that _actress_?” As if that made you an object of scorn and ridicule.

“I must confess, I am an actress,” you reply with a curtsy, trying to keep your tone light. This isn’t the first time you’ve encountered a reaction like this. You have in-laws just as bad.

“And you dare seduce our dear Lord Millennium?!”

You feel something crackle along your skin, prickling and pulling taut. Mana places a protective arm around your shoulders, and all at once, that sensation is gone. Sheril frowns as Mana says, “I’m afraid you have it backwards. I’m the one trying to seduce _her_ , and she’s successfully thwarted my every attempt so far.”

Mana obviously meant it as a joke, but somehow Sheril looks upon you with even more disdain at this news. “She’s spurning your advances?”

You wish the ground would just swallow you up now. Maybe Wisely could arrange that for you like he did in your sitting room. Mana just continues smiling like nothing’s wrong. “I think I might be getting through to her.” He then hints, “I do believe Road was looking for you with some cookies?”

For a moment, Sheril seems pacified by the thought of his daughter with cookies for him. That is, until he remembers that she found him with those cookies hours ago. “Lord Millennium,” he whines, “don’t go changing the subject!”

But Mana’s already ushering you past and back into the house proper, chuckling merrily to himself all the while.

You hope he would take you to a neutral location, someplace in the open until a room can be readied for you (you can tell it’s getting late and there’s no hope of you being escorted home now). Instead, he leads you to a bedroom that you assume must be his. Because otherwise, the sight before you would be even more bewildering than it already is.

Someone has beaten you both inside and left their mark. If it were just a vase of flowers to brighten the room or the like, you would assume one of the maids had stopped in and wouldn’t question it. The fact that someone has scattered rose petals across the coverlet and has left not only a change of clothes for you in the morning but also a rather inappropriate nightgown for tonight tells you that you’ve been set up. Mana’s surprise seems genuine enough for you to believe it wasn’t him who did it.

That leaves Wisely and perhaps Tyki, both of whom had fled before your discovery. You silently curse them both. You’d also like to know what Mana was thinking, bringing you here instead of finding a guestroom right away.

Mana is quick to apologize for this when he sees your discomfort. “I can have them prepare another room.”

Part of you is eager to accept the offer, but if Wisely _is_ the one responsible for this, you know you won’t be going home until you give in.

You’re about to spin some lie or other about how you’ve missed intimacy and wouldn’t mind another night with him, but he sees through it before you even get the chance to open your mouth. Mana leads you to a small parlor down the hall. He kisses you goodnight, his palm lingering against your cheek a little longer, and then he’s gone to find a servant to prepare you a more proper place to sleep.

* * *

The garden is beautiful in the moonlight, you think as you take in the soft light dancing upon the leaves and flowers. The air is thick with the scent of roses and lilies, and you find yourself closing your eyes to better focus on that. A breeze plays with your loose hair, caressing it like a lover before letting it settle back on your bare shoulders.

You fall back in the grass and stare up at the moon through the branches of the apple tree above you. Your throat feels suddenly parched when you see one of the luscious red fruits.

A hand pulls it down for you, and Mana kneels beside you, offering you a bite of the apple in his hand. You sit up and let him feed it to you. Your mouth fills with the crisp, juicy fruit, its hedonistic sweetness overwhelming your senses.

It’s not enough. With each bite you take, you feel more and more hollow inside. You shiver as the wind chills your suddenly overheated body. Your thighs press together against an empty, aching feeling.

You’ve eaten nearly half the apple when Mana takes it back and bites into it himself. The fruit falls from his hand to land in the grass. One bite, it seems, was enough for him.

He moves closer and kisses you. Tongues and fingers intertwine, and all you taste is the sweetness on his tongue. It’s intoxicating and with each second, each movement, you feel yourself falling more and more under its spell. A fire is lit inside you, and the ache between your legs grows stronger.

When your lips part for air, a strand of saliva still links you to each other. His half-lidded eyes meet yours, and he whispers, “ _May I?_ ”

You lay back in the grass and pull him down with you. Beneath the boughs of that tree he takes you for the first time. Your legs wrap around him as his stiffened cock slips in. He ruts into you with abandon, and you moan along with him. His lips are on yours again, and you taste him and the forbidden fruit you shared. His pace quickens and your legs squeeze together as you lose yourself in his embrace, in his kisses, in the stretch of his cock inside you.

His hands find yours and your fingers thread together as he presses your clasped hands on either side of your head. You’re gasping, moaning, in want—no, _need_ —of something you can’t name. The flames inside you grow hotter with each thrust even as they seem to fold in on themselves to become molten to the core inside you.

Then the fire blazes forth, all consuming. Your skin tingles as your body goes taut beneath Mana and you scream out his name. Not Mana, but, “ _Adam!_ ” Into that heat shoots something even hotter as your lover’s breath hitches and his movements slow. The liquid flame of his essence pools inside you; his softened member slips out once he’s spent.

He kisses you again and whispers not your name, but “ _Eve,_ ” against your lips. That single word is silky on your skin and fits like a glove.

You’ve sinned. You both have. You’ve fallen from grace, but so long he’s by your side…

* * *

The first thing you’re aware of when you wake from your dream is the throb of your womanhood and the wetness soaking your panties. Your body feels impossibly heavy, the way you’ve always felt after orgasm. You whine softly and curl on your side, but the need doesn’t go away. You _ache_ for his touch. You want Adam—

 _Adam?_ It takes a moment to separate dream from reality. _Not Adam. Mana_. The further from sleep you drift, the more embarrassed you get. You had a weird dream about sleeping with Mana. You remember apples and trees and you’re pretty sure he called you _Eve_ and you called him _Adam_. Your face grows hotter and hotter with each passing second.

That nonsense yesterday, about you being Eve… Did you _really_ just have a Biblical dream about sleeping with Mana? Because of that? You groan and roll to your other side as if that would quell the rising heat inside you.

The ache between your legs tells you all you need to know. What’s worse, you really, _really_ liked it.

As you squeeze your eyes shut and legs together against the sensation, you wonder if Mana would blame you for murdering Road in the morning.


	5. Adam and Eve

Wisely greets you at your bedroom door the next morning, a little box in hand. Inside is your charm as promised, though he’s swapped the ratty old string with a gold chain. “How did you like your surprise?” he asks with a mischievous grin. Almost like he knows _exactly_ what you dreamt last night. Which, being a mind reader, he probably does.

“Where’s Road?” you deadpan.

“Still sleeping. Why?”

“I know she has some kind of dream power and that she’s messing with me.”

Maybe he didn’t know. His brow creases a moment as he picks up on your thoughts, then his mouth drops open. “That… I don’t think that was _Road_. It’s too… on the nose for her.”

A little voice pipes up, “It was waaay to clichéd for me. I’m as big a sucker for bittersweet endings as anyone, but that was too much.”

You stare around for the source of Road’s voice, but the girl is nowhere to be found. Her voice sounds again, “I’m right here!” and you spot a ragdoll clinging to Wisely’s shoulder. It lifts its plush tube of an arm and waves.

You didn’t think anything could surprise you after yesterday, but you feel lightheaded again. Wisely’s quick to steady you and help you back into your room to sit on the bed. The doll that looks just like Road plops down beside you and pats your hand.

“Those were Eve’s memories you saw. Or a dream-hybrid of them anyway,” she says. “Think of it like a metaphor. You’re just starting to wake up because Adam’s finally found you.”

First the ‘Clan of Noah’ and now this. They’re seriously garbling their Biblical references. “If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke,” the doll replies. “You’re the current incarnation of Eve’s memories. That’s why you’re so drawn to Millennie and him to you. And you’re remembering them because of Adam.”

Forgetting a moment that Road’s still a child and really shouldn’t be privy to this sort of thing yet, you say, “I’ve _slept_ with him and never had dreams like that!”

“Because Mana was running from his nature as Adam,” explains Road patiently. “You were drawn to each other, but Mana couldn’t remember why. His power as the Earl was suppressed too much to draw out your memories yet. Now he is. Wisely didn’t notice before ‘cause of that. If we’d known, we’d have come for you sooner.”

“But why _me?_ ”

The Road-dolly shrugs. “Why any of us? You just happened to be born with those memories inside you.”

You feel dizzy again, and Road presses something into your hand. It’s the charm Mana gave you, surprisingly warm in your palm despite having been in a box. She closes your fingers around it.

“If I’m Eve then… what about Wyatt?”

Wisely leans back against the wall looking supremely bored. “A human blip. Eves often have human lovers before Adam finds them.”

You squeeze the stone until your fist is shaking and the delicate metal rings of the new chain dig into you. “I met Wyatt after. I loved him, didn’t I?” Tears fog your vision, and you scrub them away. Any number of possibilities run through your head—that he was a stand-in, that you never really loved him being the most prominent—and you feel like scum. “That wasn’t a lie, was it?”

Wisely winces at the emotion and awkwardly averts his eyes, but Road offers, “Your first love isn’t always your only love, and sometimes you can love more than one person at the same time. Mana wasn’t around, but you still thought about him, didn’t you? You kept this close, after all.” And here, she taps your clenched fist where you hold the pendant. “And yet you were still heartbroken enough for the Earl to notice you when your husband passed.”

“But I refused to—”

The Road-doll stands, and that’s even more disconcerting than just her head and arms moving. “You’re a smart cookie,” she tells you. “Mana warned you ahead of time and you connected the dots. Besides, there’s no way Adam would have let you go through with it anyway. He’d never let an Akuma kill you _or_ wear your skin.”

Wisely frowns. “Road?”

The doll looks up at him. “Yeah?”

“Go get the Earl. She’s going to faint again.”

You hardly hear him as the darkness closes in.

* * *

You dream again. A man you don’t recognize but would know anywhere holds you close. Crosses stand out prominently on his forehead, the punishment for partaking of forbidden knowledge. He’s marked for all eternity, as will be his children should they get too close to the truths of this world as well.

Tears are in his eyes as he whispers your name, “ _Eve_.” His shoulders shake as he cradles you against his chest. “ _I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t…_ ”

Though you were both made in God’s image, you ate more of the apple and so you’ve fallen further, nearly out of reach of your lover. He continues to live unchanging forever while you… you will slip through his fingers one day. You’ll die. You’ll be gone and never see him nor your children again. Adam sobs as he holds you, and you can’t help but think it’s he who has the harsher punishment.

You know mortality, but he will soon know losing the one he loves.

You brush back his bangs with frail fingers and trail them down to his cheek. He takes your hand in his when you have no strength left and presses it against his face. You open your mouth to say something—

Someone’s calling your name. Your actual name, not Eve. A groan accompanies your eyes fluttering open. Mana cradles you the way Adam had in your dream, and when your eyes meet, he holds you all the closer. Wisely stands back, silently observing you both, and Road clings to his shoulder still in her doll form.

Mind still hazy, you murmur, “Adam?”

He whispers, “I’m here. I’m here, (F/N).”

“You’ll smother her,” Wisely warns.

Mana quickly loosens his hold on you, and your head lolls against his chest. He doesn’t smell like campfire anymore, and in your dazed state, you find that more disappointing than you normally would.

“How long…?”

“Only a few minutes,” he assures you as he helps you sit up. He keeps an arm around you until you’re both certain you aren’t going to faint again.

Once it’s clear you’re doing better, Mana offers to take you to the dining room for breakfast. He handles you with kid gloves and hovers all the while. The color returns to your cheeks full force as Road, back in her human form, coos and teases you both, though Mana is oblivious. Sheril once again glares at you, and again, Mana takes no notice as he frets over you.

Eventually, Tricia joins the party, wrapped in a shawl despite the warmth of the room. Road ceases her teasing and Sheril his glaring, the latter opting to fuss over his wife in much the way Mana is you. Unlike Mana’s, however, you can tell his worrying is all an act. Sheril plays the concerned and doting husband quite well, and you wonder who besides Wisely sees through it. The mind reader in question nearly chokes on his breakfast sausage trying to stifle his laughter. You don’t feel the least bit sorry for his near asphyxiation.

Though you hadn’t seen Tricia the previous day, she still plays the gracious hostess. “I trust you slept well last night?”

You wear a charming actress’s smile and pretend you _didn’t_ have weird and sexual dreams mixed with memories that weren’t really yours. “Quite well, thank you. I apologize for imposing on your hospitality so suddenly.”

“Oh no, it’s no trouble at all.”

It quickly becomes apparent to you that whatever is going on here with the Millennium Earl and the Clan of Noah, Tricia isn’t in on it. She chats idly with Tyki, Sheril, and Mana and gently chides her adopted children when they—Wisely in particular—misbehave or show bad manners. You don’t need the warning looks shot your way behind Tricia’s back to know the consequences of mentioning any of what you’ve learned in the last twenty-four hours.

With breakfast finished, you’re unsure what to do next. You used to spend your time rehearsing plays or helping Wyatt. After his death, it was spent getting his affairs in order and being a full-time mourner. Now, you’re left with nothing but idle hands. _The devil’s playthings,_ you think with mild amusement. Considering where you are and who is keeping you company, it’s a little ironic.

Though he wants nothing more than to stay, Mana has business to attend to. Something Sheril and the others remind him of constantly. Road promises to keep you out of trouble, and once he leaves, cons you into helping her with her homework. She’s back to her doll form as you help her parse Shakespeare while Tyki has been strong-armed into helping with arithmetic.

You watch her write with a pencil that’s almost as tall as she is, then point out, “Wouldn’t it be easier to do this as a human?”

“We had a run-in with Innocence not long ago,” she replies, and though you’ve never heard of it before, you have a vague inkling of what ‘Innocence’ is, “and I’m still not back to my full strength. I’ve only recently been able to take any corporeal form, and the smaller it is, the easier it is to keep going.”

It’s dawning on you that this version of Road that you’ve met is just a dream manifest. “Why not just use your real body?”

Road doesn’t answer and instead poses an offhanded question of her own: “Why didn’t you sleep with Millennie yesterday?”

You turn a brilliant shade of crimson while Tyki chokes back laughter. “Yes, why _didn’t_ you? You wasted all the effort Wisely and I put into setting the mood. I thought ladies liked rose petals.”

Apparently, your face _can_ turn a deeper shade of red. You’re on your feet in an instant and quickly excuse yourself.

* * *

Mana returns in time for tea that afternoon. The Kamelots and Tyki are conspicuously absent, and even the maid who brings you the tea things seems to vanish once the table is set for you. Conversation lulls far too soon as you’ve already gone through all the usual pleasantries the day before and more besides, and though you dislike the teasing, a part of you wishes Road or Wisely were here to keep up the conversation for you.

When the tea is finished, Mana invites you to sit with him on the sofa, and after asking permission, lays his head in your lap. He looks tired, looked tired earlier after you’d fainted when you think about it, and when he closes his eyes, you’re certain he’s fallen asleep. You card your fingers through his hair, and catching yourself doing so, stop.

This isn’t the Mana you once knew, not the goofy clown you’d lost your virginity to nor the one that had brought you pleasure again a year later. He looks the same and often acts the same, but it’s like someone else wears his face like a mask sometimes. _Adam_ , you think, and even though that person frightens you a little, you’re still drawn to Mana. More so now that you feel something blossoming within you, and that scares you almost as much as Adam does.

After a few minutes, Mana startles you from your reverie by asking, eyes still closed, “Do you remember now, Eve?”

It’s a little ironic that this man whose memory is a jumble is asking you about yours, but you reply, “A little. It’s… I don’t know how to feel about it.” The few visions you’ve had feel foreign, and the thought that you might not be who you’ve always thought, that some of your choices might not have entirely been your own, makes you feel a little ill. Neither of you say anything for a time, and then, “Can I ask you something?” He nods his ascent. “What are you to me exactly?”

He makes a thoughtful sound. “I’m your lover, closest confidant, and the reason for your suffering. Millennia ago before the world was destroyed and we the Noah recreated it, I offered you the fruit of knowledge that made you mortal, and I was consumed by lust for you before I could fall as far as you had.”

Mana lifts himself and turns to you. “And I am still wholly and completely consumed by you.”

His lips capture yours in a searing kiss, one that becomes deeper, more insistent. His tongue slips into your mouth when you part your lips for him. Your good sense and the part of you that is Eve battle for dominance in your actions, but it quickly becomes apparent which side is winning when you straddle his lap and let your skirts pool around you both. You shouldn’t be doing this, you think as you chase his lips when he pulls back for breath, but that thought seems so far away as his hand slips under your skirt to touch your bare thigh.

A knock at the door interrupts you both, and the door opens before you’re able to get up from Mana’s lap. You try anyway, but Mana keeps you in place, not looking the least bit bothered when Sheril steps in accompanied by your maid—former maid if you have anything to say about it.

Sheril takes in the sight of you two, of Mana’s hand still under your dark skirt scandalously exposing the bare flesh beneath, of your face as you quickly avert your eyes. The man is absolutely appalled, but he recovers with a shake of his head. “Lord Millennium,” he says with a bow, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’ve returned with the lady’s things. Perhaps she should go with her maid to unpack? I have something to discuss with you.”

“I’m afraid now isn’t a good time,” he replies lightly. You feel the bulge in Mana’s pants give a little twitch and blush furiously, unsure whether he’s aware of your own shameful arousal. “Perhaps I can find you later?”

“I’m afraid it’s urgent. It regards a… certain individual.”

Mana looks conflicted for a few seconds before giving you a light peck on the cheek and gently removing you from his lap. “My apologies. Another time then, (F/N).” He stands and offer you his hand to help you up from the sofa, but you’re too embarrassed to take it.

Sheril closes and locks the door behind you as your maid leads you to the guestroom you’ll be calling home for at least a little longer. Anna gives you a reproachful side-eye, and you say indignantly, “I don’t need a monster scolding me.”

“I would do nothing of the sort, Mistress,” she replies. “I was just going to advise finding a more… suitable location next time you decide to have a tryst while visiting someone else’s home. Might I suggest an out-of-the-way broom closet?” Wait, did Anna just crack a joke? Never in the years she’s worked for you do you remember her making any attempt at levity.

So caught up in parsing whether that was meant to be funny or not, you miss half of what she was saying to you. “…As such, I would like to turn in my letter of resignation.” Noticing you hadn’t been paying the least bit of attention, she sighs. “Mistress? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, sorry. You were going to quit?” That certainly saves you the trouble.

Knowing you weren’t listening to her, she repeats for your benefit, “Lord Millennium believes it for the best, since you now know my true nature. He doesn’t want you to fear for your safety, even if I wouldn’t do anything to you regardless.” She has the gall to look saddened by leaving when she adds, “Though I will miss keeping you as a pet. You’re quite adorable when you want to be.”

“…A… pet?”

“Well, yes. That’s our arrangement, is it not? I feed and clean up after you, just as a human does their dog. Though, I suppose dogs don’t pay for that service.”

There are all sorts of people in this world, and you suppose you can now say the same of Akuma.

A trunk is waiting for you in your room. Anna busies herself with unpacking and hanging your dresses in the wardrobe while you’re left to supervise. Very quickly, you notice a problem. A big problem.

“Anna, where are my mourning clothes?”

“Master Sheril made it very clear that under no circumstances was I to bring those.”

“…Should I ask why?”

The Akuma maid cocks an eyebrow at you. “Do I really need to explain the optics of a recent widow straddling the Millennium Earl?”

Heat creeps up your neck, ears, and face. You’re convinced that one day very soon your face is going to get stuck like that if this keeps up.

* * *

It’s late by the time you find a chance to be alone with Mana again. He calls for you around ten o’clock, long after dinner and the time when it could possibly be acceptable to see him. You debate whether you want to go or not. The last few times you’ve been together, you haven’t exactly been able to keep your hands to yourself, nor he his.

“Go,” Wisely says, not bothering to look up from where he’s playing with his frog. “You’ll feel better if you just get it out of your system.”

You want to tell him off, but he holds up a hand. “It’ll only get worse the longer you wait. Eve’s memories are strong, and this Adam doesn’t have much experience with handling a fully awakened Eve. It’s better for both of you to just let loose for a bit.”

Something about the way he says it gives you pause. “ _This_ Adam?”

Road, momentarily human because her mother will return any moment to usher her to bed, says, “Think of Mana like a new incarnation. He’s still Adam, but he’s a little different this time, like you are. This hasn’t happened before, so it’s all pretty new for both of you.” She kicks her legs while watching Wiseley and his frog thoughtfully. “Tyki hides his rubbers in his top right desk drawer if you want ‘em.”

“Middle left, and he locks the drawers now,” Wisely corrects her without missing a beat. “He moved them after you found his stash last time.”

These two will be the death of you yet, you think as you beat a hasty retreat.

You linger outside Mana’s room a good five minutes before giving in to temptation. The door opens on the first knock, and he invites you inside. Already you are beginning to question your decision when you see he’s already in his pajamas.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” he promises. “We can just sit and talk like we did this afternoon.”

Because ‘talking’ was _definitely_ all that happened this afternoon, you think wryly. You must not have done a good job hiding your thoughts this time, for he adds, “We could just cuddle if you’d rather.”

That was an option? You shift your weight from foot to foot uncertainly. “We can _just_ cuddle?” When he nods and vows not try anything unless you ask him to, you agree.

It’s been a long time since anyone’s held you. Tucked against Mana’s chest with his arms around your middle and hands resting on your belly, it’s easy to let yourself relax into his warmth. If you close your eyes, you can pretend this is your flat ten years ago when things were simpler. When there was no ‘Adam’ or ‘Eve’ or Noah, only Mana’s breath tickling the back of your neck as he snuggles against you. When all you felt was easily ignored want rather than desperate need.

Maybe Wisely’s right and you should just get it out of your system.

Mana loosens his hold to let you roll over to face him. “Hey, um… Ma-Millennium?” He must have been drifting off because he makes a sleepy noise of acknowledgment. “If… I said I wanted to… um…” Why is it so hard to say what you want? You haven’t been this nervous in years. Though when you think about it, you also haven’t had sex in the last few years either. You decide to blame that as you charge on ahead. “If I said I wanted you to pick up where we left off earlier… is that… okay?”

This earns you a sleepy smile and a kiss to the forehead. He rolls onto his back, bringing you with him and guides your leg so that you’re straddling him again. You feel the beginnings of arousal prickling across your skin already as he kisses you, as your tongue meets his, as his hands roam your back. He drops a hand to the back of your thigh and slowly bunches up the fabric of your skirt until he’s palming bare skin as he had earlier.

His fingers slip higher, beneath your panties to the growing dampness between your legs, and he pulls away to ask if he can touch you there. You give a quiet, “Yes,” before finding his lips once more.

He massages your cunt, drawing forth your juices before pressing a finger inside you. You let out a soft moan as he wiggles it and slowly thrusts it in and out. It’s a shallow, small stretch, but it’s enough to make you arch into the sensation.

You push yourself up, and thinking he did something wrong, he removes that finger. A whine tells him all he needs to know, and he works his hand beneath you at a new angle to rub at your clit through your panties while you unbutton your dress. He helps you out of your clothes, letting his hands linger and trace over each inch of newly exposed skin. When your breasts are free, he takes your nipple in his mouth, lapping at it with his tongue and sucking it to a firm peak before moving on to the other. All the while, his fingers circle and tease your clit and lower lips.

Already you can feel yourself begin to unravel as he leaves your breasts to trail butterfly kisses along your throat. Your hands stray to his shirt and undo the buttons you find until he, too, is bare chested. Your bodies press together as he captures your lips once more, and through his thin pajama pants you can feel his building excitement.

Breathless, you pull away to rid yourself of your soaking panties. Nothing else matters than the need to be close with this man. You want all of him, body and soul. You want him inside you, making love to you—

Mana stops you. “Are you sure?” His eyes roam your body, lingering on the bruises your maid left the other day, even as he reaches for his robe to cover you. You don’t blame him. You’ve been alternating between pushing him away and throwing yourself into his advances since you arrived.

And if you’re being honest, you’re _not_ sure, but you’re no less certain than you were about anything that first time either. So you lean forward and kiss him, hoping that would get your feelings across. He returns the gesture eagerly. His hands roam your back and thighs. When you readjust your perch atop him, he slides his pants down and kicks them away. His freed length springs up and rubs against you as you gasp and squirm.

You do nothing more than grind against his length for a while, letting his hands explore every inch of you as he groans and thrusts up against your dripping entrance. You give him one last, lingering kiss before you sit back up. He watches you with smoldering amber eyes as you align yourself and sink down.

Mana’s head falls back against the pillow with a contented sigh once he’s fully sheathed inside you. You, meanwhile, feel a throb of pleasure as you shift slightly to get more comfortable before you start moving.

It’s slow and admittedly awkward at first. Shivers run up your spine as does a familiar prickling across your skin as you tease his length. You don’t mean to tease, though. It’s just that the stretch of him inside you is overwhelming enough. It doesn’t help—or perhaps it does, depending on how you think about it—that Mana keeps brushing his fingers along your thighs and waist in a way that leaves you dizzy for more as you move.

Once you find your rhythm, you ride him a little more, a little faster. Mana groans and grabs on to your hips to thrust up into you. The first time he does this you cry out in surprise as you jerk down to meet him. The pressure mounts inside as you go harder, groans and moans slipping past your lips. “Nngh, _ah_ , Adam! _Harder!_ _Please!_ ” You have no idea what you’re saying, but he obliges anyway, earning more begging and moaning.

His grip on you tightens as he groans out, “I’m almost…”

“ _Please_ ,” you whine. You don’t even know what you’re asking for anymore.

It hardly registers when he pants, “Can I… _nngh_ , inside?”

The dam breaks and you’re so lost in the haze of orgasm that you cry out, “ _Yes,_ ” without the least thought to what you’re agreeing to or what it could mean. You just want him. _All_ of him.

He thrusts up into you twice more before he throws his head back in a wordless moan. Heat pools within you with his release as he jerks into you. It’s only when he’s fully flaccid that you let yourself collapse forward onto him, limbs heavy from your exertions and climax.

Mana kisses you again. Your forehead, your closed eyelids, your nose, anywhere his lips can find. Now that you’re spent, the air feels frigid against your overheated skin. Noticing this, Mana pulls the blanket around you both like a little messy cocoon. You give him a breathy laugh when he comments glibly, “There, a giant sushi roll.”

You stay like this, wrapped in his arms and the blanket, his warmth seeping into you even as his seed—

You heave up and off him with a curse. Mana watches you in confusion as you mutter to yourself, making mental calculations in a panic. You hadn’t had to worry about pregnancy in _years_ , and so you hadn’t thought about it at all in the heat of the moment. You run the dates through your head twice more before breathing a sigh of relief.

This time, at least, you should be okay.

Mana still looks perplexed when you relax, and it’s not until you declare, “We’re using a rubber next time,” that he comprehends.

He sits up and pulls you back against his chest in a loose embrace. Whispering against the top of your head, he tells you, “I’ll take care of you. I’ll never leave your side, Eve.” As if to show he’s serious, he gives you a squeeze.

You don’t doubt him, but you’re still relieved when a week later you find blood staining your underwear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the point in the story where I hope I foreshadowed enough early on that this Eve stuff didn't come totally out of left field...


	6. Excursion

Being intimate with Mana both helps and doesn’t. You no longer feel like a horny teenager when left alone in the same room as him at least, but that only lasts a few days before the inappropriate urge to kiss him or escalate the affections he shows you resurfaces. Though you’re disappointed, it’s probably for the best that he’s been forced to ‘go out on business’ for days at a time lately. Even if that business is terrible.

The problem is that since that night, Eve’s memories seem to be forcing themselves on you more aggressively. There’s rarely a night now that you don’t wake up with a needy whine on your lips and your womanhood wet with want, desperate for Adam’s—no, Mana’s—touch. There are other memories too, ones of children the original Eve had or the life she lived by Adam’s side. Even memories of other incarnations trickle in. These you hardly notice unless something reminds you of of your past lives. The sexual ones, though? Those always take the form of vivid dreams you can’t ignore no matter how hard you try.

“How do I make it stop?” you ask Road and Wisely after the third week.

They exchange a glance that tells you that you probably won’t like their answer. Road thinks about the best way to put it, then apparently gives up because she says bluntly, “Well, you could always sleep with him more. That helped last time, didn’t it?”

It had, but that feels like the wrong reason to have sex with someone. You decide to let it go a little longer. Mana’s still away ‘on business’ anyway.

* * *

Sheril gives you the impression you’re overstaying your welcome, even if Tricia, Road, and Wisely insist otherwise (about you overstaying, not on Sheril’s opinion; even they can't deny he's getting impatient). When the Earl isn’t present, he gives you dirty looks and makes statements that are just vague enough to not be overtly threatening. The last time Mana returned, he insisted that you weren’t worthy of the Earl’s attention and that he should, ‘ _pay you and send you on your way.’_

Mana had taken the diatribe well enough until that last statement. Though he kept his voice even and his smile plastered on his face, his eyes were cold and hard like that day so long ago as he said, “You will apologize to (F/N), Sheril. That was uncalled for.”

Even under that icy gaze, Sheril stood firm. “She’s just some pretty human. There are plenty more worthy of your—”

“Your wife is also a ‘pretty human,’” Mana reminds him, “and yet I’ve never questioned your decision about her. I ask you offer me the same courtesy.”

From then on Sheril becomes subtler with his jabs at you. He never says or does anything while Mana is present, though he does try to monopolize the Earl’s time whenever he’s at the Kamelot residence. When the Earl isn’t around, he looks upon you as something disgusting on the bottom of his shoe and occasionally makes comments about those aiming above their station. Tricia assures you that Sheril doesn’t mean anything by it—that it’s just out of concern for a dear friend. “Give him time. He’ll come around soon enough.” Granted, she wasn’t present when he all but called you a whore. If she had, you wonder if she would be of the same opinion.

In spite of his best efforts, Sheril couldn’t keep watch twenty-four-seven. He’s a minister of some public office or other—you can’t remember which one—which meant he had to work. He also needs to sleep at some point, and so your dalliances become rescheduled to the far more inappropriate nighttime.

More and more often you sleep in Mana’s room when the man is there. You haven’t had sex since that time he came inside, but just snuggling against him helps with the vivid sex dreams. Most of the time anyway.

Tonight is not one of those nights. Your panties are wet even as you squeeze your legs together against the throbbing between them. You press yourself closer to the solid warmth next to you even as a shiver of arousal from the dream still at the edge of your consciousness courses through you. “Mmm…” Your brow furrows a little in sleep when you feel a finger tilt your chin up and lips against yours. Tongues meet, and you snake your arms around your lover. When you part, you plead drowsily, “Mana…”

The arms around you stiffen, and even half-asleep you realize your mistake. Already he looks hurt and dejected, like you’d cried out the name of a different lover in the heat of the moment. Which is silly, considering they’re one and the same person. Even if Mana doesn’t realize that.

He turns his back to you and curls on his side. You know he’s not sleeping though. You can see the subtle shake of his shoulders. “Are you… crying?”

“I’m not Mana.” His voice is thick with emotion. “Why do you both call me that? Who is _Mana?_ ”

You wonder briefly about his use of ‘both,’ but you concentrate more on calming him down. You card your fingers through his tousled hair, and that alone is enough to make him relax. “You used to go by that name once,” you say. “When we first met, remember? You weren’t Adam then. You must have forgotten.”

He sniffles. “And you weren’t Eve yet.”

“And I wasn’t Eve yet,” you agree. Someday, will you end up like this? Overrun by the memories inside you that aren’t yours? So far, Eve’s memories are just there in your mind like any other, but your stomach twists into knots when you consider the possibility of losing yourself to them. Of forgetting yourself and really and becoming nothing but Eve.

You push the thought away and focus instead on Mana. Despite the concern you feel, both for Mana’s and your own future mental states, the prickling arousal from your dream hasn’t left you. The part of you that is Eve tells you this will be a good distraction for the both of you, and for once you agree.

This time it’s you kissing the back of Mana’s neck, earning you a little shiver of pleasure from him. “Adam,” you whisper, “look at me?”

He gazes at you over his shoulder, and you lean in to kiss his cheek. “You know I love you, don’t you?” Your chest feels impossibly tight as the words leave you. Are these Eve’s feelings? Or yours?

It doesn’t matter as he finally reciprocates. His lips find yours, and the kisses quickly turn hungry. You pull at Mana's shirt until he crawls over top you, mouths never leaving each other. Already you’re slipping off your panties while Mana draws the hem of your nightgown up to your collarbone.

His fingers trace from your waist to your belly and then down your abdomen to your core. He breathes against your lips, “May I?” and when you nod, his fingers tweak your clit. He traces circles around the nub, draws your juices to it before pinching and rubbing and flicking. You writhe under his touch, and your nails dig ruby red lines into his back. You whine, spread your legs farther for him. He slips one finger inside you, then two, pumping and curling them until you're moaning and begging for more. You cry out as the tension that has been building releases so suddenly from his touch that your eyes water. Your vision turns hazy with tears with your climax overwhelming you far sooner than you thought.

Mana gives you a quick peck on the lips before moving away from you. Slightly dazed, you watch as he opens a drawer in his nightstand and retrieves a condom. Your face heats up, and you avert your eyes.

“Do you want to stop?”

Concern is clear in his voice. You flick your gaze down to his wrapped erection, then back to his face. He actually remembered your declaration from last time. “I just wasn't expecting that, that's all. I want to keep going.”

Mana gives a breathy chuckle and slides between your legs. His lips capture yours again in a tender kiss as his fingers caress your hips and thighs. Then after stroking your cheek and checking with you once more, he's inside.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck as he begins to move. The stretch makes you whine and cling to him all the more as you meet his thrusts. Your mind goes blank. All you can focus on is the feeling of Mana inside you, making love to you.

Again and again and again he plunges into you. He guides your legs around his waist and lets out a groan as you cross your ankles behind him and squeeze your thighs together. His lips are on yours again, drinking in the gasps and moans as your body thrums with electricity. The friction inside you and the angle tips you over the edge and you cry out his name. He thrusts into you a few more times, and he spirals after you with a soft groan against your skin.

He kisses you again, long and tender, and you know that whatever your feelings for Mana, you don't want to leave his side.

* * *

You've been staying with the Kamelots for almost three months when Mana invites you to join him for a long trip. Until now, your dates have been shorter and more local: an evening at the theater, dinner at a nice restaurant, that sort of thing. This time, he's asked you to join him for a week long beach excursion to give you a change of scenery, for lovely as this part of the European countryside is, “A refined lady such as yourself should get a chance to spread your wings a little.”

In reality, it's probably to give you a break from Sheril, who has steadily become less subtle in trying to get rid of you, and he a break from you. You welcome the travel.

This time you get to experience the strange magic they use to travel all over the world first hand. You step through something like a strange glowing portal and in the blink of an eye you're in an empty city made of white stone. It reminds you a little of the sets your theater uses to represent Mediterranean cityscapes. If not for the complete lack of people, you'd think this was your destination.

Mana leads you down the empty street to another door, and when you walk through this one you find yourself stepping into a salty breeze and the lively sounds of a crowd of vacationers. No one seems to notice the pair of you joining the bustle from the nearby alley, as they're far more interested in the festivities surrounding you. A festival is going on, and soon you're surrounded by laughter and music and smells of delicious food wafting from nearby stalls.

An Akuma dressed as a servant had been sent ahead with your things, and so there was nothing to do but enjoy the celebration. There's so much to do, and even though it's only lunch time, you have no hope of seeing even half the fair before the day is out. Despite the size, Mana seems to know which stalls serve the best delicacies and have the best games. He wins you a plush toy of a beagle that looks so much like Allen at a ball toss game that you're tempted to make it a little ruff and hat when you get back.

As the sun sinks below the horizon, he takes you to your hotel. From the balcony, you can watch as fireworks light up the night sky. After, you see those same fireworks behind your eyelids when Mana brings you to completion.

* * *

Each day brings with it new experiences. One day it's swimming in the ocean for the first time, the next it's visiting a museum with the most beautiful paintings you've ever seen when storms keep you indoors. Each night you share Mana's bed. No one interferes and there's no one to care that you aren't husband and wife.

By the time the last day rolls around, you find you don't want to return to the Kamelot residence where you have to share Mana with others every time he visits. You know it's selfish, but so is Eve. You bite back the words you so want to tell him. His Noah family is important to him, a part of him that he's had by his side longer. An outsider like yourself, even one with Eve's memories, can't compare.

So you stay quiet even as he brings out a surprise for you. He gifts you a dress that fits you like a glove. The color is perfect for you, and the cut so flattering that he must have had someone make it for you special. You can't help but admire your reflection, and until Mana places his hands on your shoulders and beams at you in the mirror you're not sure if it's real or a dream.

“You look radiant this evening, but something's missing...” he says, though his voice is light and teasing. His fingers brush along the fine gold chain of the charm he gave you years ago. Then, “Ah! I know just the thing!”

With a little flourish, he produces a hair ornament from thin air. Red roses surrounded by little purple violets and tulips adorn this latest present. It takes but a moment for his nimble fingers to sweep your hair up and secure it with this decoration.

There's a ball this evening, one open to noble and commoner, rich and poor alike. Mana escorts you on his arm, and the evening is a whirl of color and music as you dance the night away. As expected of a former street performer, Mana is light on his feet, but you're no slouch either. All eyes are upon you and your partner as you twirl and spin and waltz. By the last song, you're winded but feeling victorious.

As the carriage takes you both back to the hotel, Mana has one more surprise for you. He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a little box that makes your heart stutter. Inside is a ring with delicate wire tied in a love knot, the biggest gemstone you've ever seen in your favorite color at its center.

“I-I don't know what to say!” you cry, so shocked are you.

You've accepted that your feelings for Mana and Eve's for Adam are one and the same, even if you don't quite understand them, but you've only known him for a little more than three months total. There's also your late husband, who you remember with a stab of guilt. Eve's memories had nearly erased him from yours, and until that realization too slips away, you felt tears prick your eyes. As much as you wanted to say yes...

“You don't have to say anything right now. You can give me your answer when you're ready.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I'm sorry.”

He pockets the little box and takes your hands in his. “There's no need to apologize. I shouldn't have surprised you like this.” He lifts the back of your hand to his lips, and then he leans forward. All is forgotten when his mouth finds yours. Your heart pounds as you kiss again and again, lips parting to taste each other as your touches become more intimate.

You both stop when the gentle sway of the carriage does, but your good behavior lasts only as long as others are able to see you.

Once the door to your shared suite is closed and fastened, Mana scoops you up and carries you to the bed. When he sets you down, he finds the zipper at the back of your dress and slides it down. As the dress slips from your shoulders, you free your hair from its loose up-do.

The bodice falls away, and Mana takes your breast in his mouth as he finishes stripping you. You tangle your fingers into his dark hair, squirming at the way his tongue makes your nipple peak from his ministrations. A needy whine escapes you, and he travels up to your lips. His eyes are smoldering as he sheds vest, shirt, pants. Your swollen cunt throbs with want as you watch him put on the rubber, and as soon as he's finished, you're straddling his lap.

His length inside you makes you giddy as you roll your hips. The motion rubs you just right, and you pick up the pace. Moans and gasps accompany each movement. Mana's hands find your waist. He bounces you in his lap, jerking his hips up to meet you on each down stroke.

“ _Ah!_ Yes, _Adam!_ ” You squeeze your eyes shut. Words are tumbling from your lips, ones you barely pay any mind to as you lose yourself in his embrace. If you had, you might have been embarrassed as you cry out, “You feel so good. Nngh! _Ah!_ ”

Mana thrusts up into you in earnest now. Wet slapping sounds fill the room, drowned out only by you screaming out his name as you come. “ _Adam!_ ”

His pace picks up and turns erratic as he approaches his end. He groans and buries his face in the crook of your neck as his body goes taut.

Panting and coated in sweat, you find each other's lips once more. His hands knead patterns into your back and shoulders while you're content to hold him. He tips backward, pulling you down with him so you lay on top of him and drawing a shriek of surprised laughter from your throat.

Your mouths move together in one last, languid kiss, and you feel his softening member slip out of you. Something else, hot and creamy, drips out after it, and you feel your blood run cold. You hope that isn't what you think it is.

“What's wrong?”

You take a deep breath and tell yourself that whatever you find when you move, you'll accept it. Somehow, you convince yourself that you'll be fine and you sit back up to dismount. Your private pep talk fails miserably as a cry of dismay leaves you.

The condom broke. And this time, you _know_ this was the worst possible moment for it to fail you.


	7. No Good Surprises

You sleep poorly that night even with Mana doing his best to soothe your frayed nerves. He vows never to leave your side, tries to kiss away all your anxiety, but it does little to help. It won't change the fact that you both royally screwed the pooch this time. You tell yourself that timing isn't everything. Even if you did conceive, there was no guarantee anything would stick. You might be worrying over nothing.

When you return to the Kamelot manor, Wisely clues in instantly on what happened. By extension, Road must know now too, much to your chagrin. Neither tease you about it, and though you want nothing more than to confide your misery in someone, you don't want it to be either of the minors. Sheril is also out. _He'll blow a gasket if he finds out,_ you think crossly. He doesn't like you already. Add to your acting credit being the mother of the Earl's bastard, and he might just find a way to murder you and make it look like an accident.

That leaves Tyki, whom you haven't spent much time with, and Tricia. Tyki's old enough and has enough of a reputation that he might understand. You don't know him well because he's been away even more often and for longer stretches than the Earl, so still you hesitate to have too personal a conversation with him. Conversely, Tricia you've spent many an afternoon with. Whenever she was well enough for company, you would join her for tea or a leisurely stroll around the garden when the weather and her health allowed. She knew enough about Lord Millennium's courting of you, too, that she wouldn't be entirely blindsided if you sought her advice.

Perhaps you could pass your liaison off as a one-time lapse of judgment to spare her delicate sensibilities. Tricia doesn't need to know how many times you and Mana had really been intimate. You just have to find a chance to talk to her alone without her husband around.

The opportunity presents itself when the entire Noah clan have vanished a few days later. Tricia waits for you in high spirits at lunch. Your stomach is in knots as you ask if you can tell her something personal.

“Of course,” she says. “Is something wrong?”

“I'm... not sure yet.” And it's true. Just because you _could_ be pregnant doesn't mean you are. You might get lucky after all. Since you got back from your trip you've rehearsed this discussion over and over again, and you just hoped that Tricia could stick to your mental script. “You know that Adam and I are... um...”

When she sees you struggling, she offers, “Courting?”

“Yes. Well, on our vacation, we may have... skipped ahead a few steps.”

Tricia's been married long enough to know your meaning. She nods and when you don't continue, supplies, “And you suspect there might be more than pleasant memories?”

“I'm a little scared. It's too soon to tell, but...”

Another nod. “It's quite possible nothing comes of this,” she says. “Wait and see. You could be worrying yourself sick over nothing.” Tricia gives you an appraising look. “I trust Lord Millennium knows of your concerns?”

“Yes. I... may have panicked a little at the time.”

Tricia's smile is warm as she says, “I can imagine. If it were me, I don't think I could stay calm either.”

You pick at your food a little. This conversation is going better than you had expected. “Could you keep this a secret from Lord Kamelot for a while yet? I want to be sure before anyone else finds out, and I fear he already hates me.”

“I wouldn't say he _hates_ you,” says Tricia, “though I do agree that Sheril wouldn't take it well. When you're ready for him to know, I can break the news gently for you.”

It's a relief to have Tricia on your side, but that doesn't change the anxiety you feel with each passing day. Sheril is slow to figure out that something is up, though he begins to suspect something must be when Mana hovers anxiously about you more often than usual. Tricia, Wisely, and Road play distraction regularly whenever the Earl drops one too many clues for comfort, but you know it's only a matter of time. You just hope you find out you've been wrong all along before Sheril gets an inkling and sends you to your grave.

Your hopes are dashed as the time you expect your monthly visitor passes you by. One week, then two. By the third, you not only see the writing on the wall but feel the other effects. The classic queasiness is mild but definitely present, and you feel far more rundown than you normally would. You quietly ask Tricia if there's a doctor nearby she would recommend.

Sheril spies that particular visitor on the man's way out, and at last it clicks in his mind what everyone else—Tyki included—figured out a while ago. He practically sprints to your room and the only thing that prevents him from throwing the door wide open in a rage is Road opening it for him. She gives him a brilliant smile and gushes in that way that works every time on her adopted father, “I get a _cousin_. Isn't that great?!”

Her excitement, though you're not sure how real it is, mollifies her father for the moment. He gives her a doting pat on the head and you a look that screams, _“We'll talk later.”_

By the time later rolls around, Tricia has situated herself to one side of you and Mana has to the other. The latter seems to have embraced future fatherhood completely and is all smiles as he starts on his latest knitting project: a little beanie cap. You, however, are still uncertain how to feel about any of this. Eve's influence makes you want to be as happy and excited as Road seemed earlier. Of course, it also wants you to forget entirely that you're supposed to be mourning for a man you just barely remember, so you don't put much stock in any of it.

The sight of Tricia and the Earl gives Sheril pause. He coughs lightly to reign in his anger for the benefit of his wife and asks you point-blank, “You are with child?”

Your voice is far thinner than you want it to be as you reply, “Yes.”

You can tell he wants to lash out at you, to hurt you with words even if he can't in deed. “Is it safe to presume it's Lord Millennium's?” If his wife and the man in question weren't present, you're certain he'd make wild accusations to the contrary.

Mana pauses mid-stitch to peer at Sheril. “There's no need to interrogate her.” There is the subtlest hint of warning in the statement, one which Tricia doesn't pick up on.

“Don't be too hard on her, Sheril,” Tricia says, crossing the room to take her place at her husband's side. “She's been worrying herself sick for weeks. Surely you can overlook this small indiscretion?”

It rubs you the wrong way that she speaks of you as if you're a stupid teenager. You've been married before. It's not like you were innocent of what men and women do behind closed doors or that you made a mistake in the thick of passion. The results might have been an accident but the act itself, though not quite premeditated, was intentional. You still do your best to look repentant even if you don't feel it for the sake of Tricia's script, though it isn't an act when you reach for Mana's hand and receive the comforting squeeze you'd hoped for.

Sheril strokes his wife's cheek indulgently. “I'd have preferred she wait until marriage at least.” Again, irritation pulses through you at your treatment, but at least it looks like you'll live another day. You silently thank Tricia and Mana for their role in your continued existence.

“We've already discussed our engagement,” Mana tells him mildly. He neglects to mention that you haven't given him a proper answer yet. You'll have to talk to him later about that.

“Oh you have, have you?” His tone is flat as his gaze lingers on the lack of ring on your finger.

Tricia draws his attention back to her. “I'm sure there are matters they would like to discuss without us present. Why don't we start organizing some things for their wedding or the child?” She then says in a lower voice, both a little sweet and wistful, “You know I've always wanted to look at baby things.”

He's a great actor as he indulges this request. “Of course, my dear.” He places an arm around her waist as he sweeps her from the parlor, but as he closes the door, he shoots you a glare that makes you shudder. You'll have to watch your back just a little longer.

Mana sets aside his knitting and wraps you up in his arms. “Eve—”

“No.”

He tilts his head, confused. You sigh. “None of this Adam and Eve nonsense. I'm (F/N), not Eve.”

“But you are—“

You're not sure if it's the hormones talking, but you're going to blame them anyway. “I'm _not_ Eve, and you're not Adam. Not really.” Despite the harshness, you still lean into his touch. The warmth is comforting and you almost feel a pleasant hum at the contact. “Why can't you just be Mana like you used to be?”

“But I'm not Mana.”

“You _are_ , you silly clown. Even if you don't remember it.”

He tightens his embrace just a little, then lets a hand drop to rest on your stomach. There's no outward sign of his child growing within you yet, but you know that will change in the coming months. Part of you, a piece that is _you_ and not Eve, also welcomes that change. Back when you were married the first time, you had wanted a family. Now wasn't any different, was it?

“If I were Mana,” he asks quietly, drawing you from your thoughts, “would you marry me?”

Again you sigh. “That's not the issue.”

“But if I were—“

“Forget I said anything.” It comes out angrier then you meant it to. Mana flinches back in surprise, and a you feel a stab of guilt. You shift in his embrace and lean your forehead against his. “I'm sorry. I'm just... I'm a little upset and confused right now, and this whole Adam and Eve thing isn't helping. Just... be honest with me. Are _you_ happy with how this turned out? You, not 'Adam'.”

Back then, with the way he'd looked at Allen, at any child really, you could tell that he loved kids. Even with how he interacts with Road now, though you're not sure if she really counts.

He mulls over the question. “I've always wanted children. That's why... I became a clown, wasn't it?” Mana shakes his head, and he looks so confused when he gets up from the sofa. He turns to you helplessly. “I have a child already, don't I?” he asks, suddenly changing the subject. “Or was it a brother? I don't...” He totters just a bit on his feet, and you hurry to steady him. “Something's missing,” he mutters. “ _Someone's_ missing. I can feel it...” He trails off into silence.

The shift is sudden when he smiles at you. “We should name the baby Allen once it's born,” he says brightly. “That's a great name for a boy, don't you think? Allen.”

Under normal circumstances, you might have been concerned, but this is the brand of _Mana_ you'd gotten used to a decade ago. You're almost relieved by the curve ball. Almost. You sigh and poke his cheek. “Don't _do_ that,” you scold. “You're going to give me emotional whiplash one of these days.”

He gives a throaty chuckle as he pulls you against him. “Sorry, sorry. I'm just so _happy_. You've always wanted a child too, haven't you?” He picks you up and twirls you about, earning a surprised shriek as you hang on to him.

Then, still smiling but a little more soberly, he adds when he sets you back down, “I do love you, and I'm happy for you. For _us._ _I_ am, not Adam.” The way he says it confidentially as if someone might overhear confirms it for you: for the moment, this is really and truly Mana.

Tears prick your eyes as you bury your face in his chest, and he holds you closer as your shoulders shake. He threads his fingers slowly through your hair. “Don't cry, (F/N). You'll make me cry too, and then where will we be?”

This earns him the giggle he aimed for, and when you lift your head, his lips find yours.

* * *

'Mana' is gone by the next morning and 'Adam' is back, but there's something different now. It's subtle, but it's there in the way he talks and acts. No one picks up on it except maybe Road. He's... brighter now, and though he's good at hiding it from the other Noah, he seems to get confused more and more often.

Life falls into a pattern. Breakfast, discussing wedding plans with Sheril, lunch, making arrangements for the baby, dinner, and eventually sleep. Despite his earlier irritation, Sheril throws himself wholeheartedly into his new job as wedding planner for the Millennium Earl. Road acts as a voice of reason, reminding him whenever the event becomes too large that this is your second marriage, and as such the wedding should be quieter than the first. Once the wind's out of his sails, she skips back to you and her mother to help plan for your upcoming baby.

You find comfort in these days that are so much like each other. As your belly grows larger, the sameness is a relief. None of the servants comment behind your back—though you suppose that's because the majority must be Akuma at this point, if not all—and that too is a relief, especially as Mana becomes even more touchy-feely.

Like now. He's standing right behind you, hands over the bump of your belly and pressing kisses to the nape of your neck. “You really shouldn't be doing that where people can see us,” you deadpan.

“No one minds.”

Only Tricia might, and she couldn't get out of bed this morning. Or Sheril, though he too won't be walking in on you since he had 'business' to attend to—Noah-related, you suspect.

You sigh and lean your head back against Mana's shoulder. “Have you thought of any names?”

“I still like Allen.”

“And I keep telling you 'no' on that one. You have a terrible track-record with that name.”

“I do?”

You change the topic back to the one at hand. “How about Robin?”

Mana hums thoughtfully to himself. “Like the bird?”

“Or Robin Hood. You know, greatest folk hero to ever live? Best of all, it could be a boy or girl name, so I don't have to think of any others.”

He ponders the name a little longer. “Robin... Yes, I think that could be a good—”

Mana stops short. You can hear it too: pounding footsteps and shouts, and then from around the corner charge two people you have never seen before in your life. The stigmata scars on their forehead instantly brand them members of Mana's family, though they're far from the graceful image you've gotten of the Noah as they trip over each other in their hurry to reach Mana.

“We got him!” the dark-haired one shouts from the floor.

“Locked him up and threw away the key!” adds the lighter-haired of the pair with a giggle.

Mana tilts his head. “Got who?”

“The Fourteenth! We got him!”

The Earl visibly pales as his honey-colored eyes widen. It takes a moment before he can find his voice, and when he does, he sounds just on the verge of tears. “You've brought him home?”

The pair look at each other, just as confused as you are, then at Mana when the man asks, skin darkening to its Noah hue and the crosses blooming across his forehead, “Where is he? That dear traitor of ours?” There's a merciless edge to his tone now, even though an almost too-big smile splits his face.

This isn't Mana. You're not even sure it's Adam anymore. Shakily, you take his sleeve and whisper, “Lord Millennium?”

He ignores you. His sleeve slips from your hand as he strolls past the pair of Noah that just noticed your presence. “Hey, who's this chickadee?”

“Never mind her,” the Earl says in a clipped tone. “I do believe I should greet our guest, if you'll be so kind as to take me to him?”

The two look to each other again, then at you, then hurry after the terrible monster you first met a little more than half a year ago. Your stomach churns at the sight of that parody of a human being in a clownish top hat and lean heavily against the wall while you get what you hope is just morning sickness under control.

A hand slips into yours, and you look down to see Road. She gives you an enigmatic smile and presses a finger to her lips before leading you to a red-and-black checkered door that springs up before your eyes. Across the threshold you find yourself in a darkened room behind a crowd of people, all of whom you realize must be other Noah. No one notices you, but Road signals again for you to be quiet before skipping through the crowd.

Your gaze follows her, and your heart nearly stops. Chained to the far wall is a teenager with snowy white hair and a jagged scar on his pale and bruised face. A trickle of blood drips from a cut on his lip and more runs down his temple from a blow to the head that must have knocked him senseless. If not for the shuddering rise and fall of his chest, you might have thought him dead.

The Earl steps forward and says far too cheerfully, “Welcome home, my dear Fourteenth.” He tilts his head. “Though, I suppose it's not really your home, now is it,” he amends. “You did steal our old Ark, after all.”

Allen lifts his head, and though he still looks a little dazed, he gives a cocky grin. “Still a fat tub of lard, eh, Earl?”

Sheril bristles at the insult and is about to lash out, but the Millennium Earl raises a hand to stop him. “I see your manners haven't improved.”

“And I see you're still an ass who won't call me by my name. What? Afraid Mana might come out to play if you call me Nea?”

You see the Earl stiffen. “Mana is gone,” he says, though his voice sounds about to break. Road takes his gloved hand, and he seems to relax again. “Your tricks won't work here, _Fourteenth._ ”

The teen shrugs. “Worth a shot, fatso.”

Without warning, Allen—or Nea or whoever this is because it's most certainly _not Allen—_ lets out a choked gasp of pain and yanks at the chains keeping his arms above his head. Blood dribbles from a fresh wound ringing his neck as if he'd been cut by piano wire. The Earl waves a hand, and Sheril's drops back to his side.

“Glad to see Dezaiasu still has that temper,” Nea rasps, somehow sounding unconcerned even though he struggles to catch his breath. He glances around at those gathered, pauses on you a brief moment, then comments, “Looks like you're missing one. Guess Ponytail did a better job exterminating Wrath than I thought.”

Is he stupid? You watch as another cut appears seemingly unprovoked just above the first on his neck, this one deeper.

Even so, the Earl chortles. “Quite the mouth on you, boy.” His expression darkens. “I might have let you live a little longer, but you've shown you haven't changed.”

He raises a hand, and your heart thuds in your chest at the sight of inhuman wispy tendrils lengthening his fingers into dagger-sharp _somethings_ that shoot and pierce the teenager's flesh. For the first time, Nea actually looks frightened as blood spurts from the wounds.

Eve knows what this is, and you're moving before you can stop yourself. You throw all your weight at the Earl's raised arm and pull with all your might. “Stop it!” you shriek. “Stop! Please, Adam!”

The Millennium Earl looks down at you, and though his face is still the smiling mask, you see befuddlement in his eyes. “Why are you here?”

You don't answer the question. Instead, you tug at his arm again. The razor-sharp tentacles retract, and you breathe a sigh of relief that sticks in your throat when he cups your cheek. “Why help him?” he asks, and you feel his thumb and fingers press into your flesh.

“Because you'll regret it later,” you whisper. You don't know what's going on. Not why Allen is acting strange nor who this 'Nea' is, but you do know that if Mana kills him and later remembers the boy he'd taken under his wing, he would never forgive himself.

The Earl glances between your face and their prisoner. Then says to Sheril, “I trust you will make our guest comfortable?” even as he ushers you past the staring Noah to the door.

A parody of a grin twists Sheril's features. “Of course, Lord Millennium.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot, it thickens. >:3
> 
> I wanted Nea to be more standoffish in this because he's backed into a corner and knows he's not talking to anything resembling Mana (because he keeps calling him 'Fourteenth'), but maybe I went a bit too far with the insults?


	8. Escape

The Earl whisks you off to a bedroom and sits you down roughly on the bed. “What are you _doing_ here, Eve?!” he snarls at you. “You aren't supposed to be here!”

“I-I followed Road,” you stammer. “She made a door and took me through it with her.”

His tone instantly softens. “Road did? Ah, what a naughty trick. I'll have to have a talk with her later.” He shakes his head and lifts his hands in an exaggerated shrug. “Well, what's done is done I suppose. Can't take it back now.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and ask, “Why did you have Allen chained up? What's going on?”

“Allen? No, no, my dear. That was the Fourteenth, and he was chained up because he's dangerous. He wouldn't hesitate to kill you, you know. But don't worry, we'll take _good_ care of him.”

Before you can stop yourself, you cry, “Don't you dare hurt him!”

The Earl tilts his head. “Oh? And why not? He didn't hesitate to do the same to us back then. He wouldn't hesitate to do the same to us now.” He lifts your chin with a finger, and you can see a split in the mask he wears even if you can't see the face beneath. “He would hurt you, my dear Eve, just to spite me.”

“I don't think he would. Allen's a good kid—“

“Allen Walker hates the Noah,” he responds. “He's hurt my family before. I won't let him do it again.”

There's no room for argument, and so you bite your tongue. He steps back and taps his chin ponderously. “That just leaves what to do about you... Sheril will be quite upset that you interrupted our family meeting after all. I should come come up with an appropriate punishment.”

Normally, you wouldn't call abducting a teenager and threatening his life a 'family meeting,' but considering your own kidnapping—even if you were staying (mostly) of your own free will these days—it's probably just another day for the Noah. He sounds rather upbeat contemplating the penalties for interrupting this not-meeting, though, and you suspect he has something fairly harmless in mind.

“Like what, a spanking?” you suggest, only half-joking.

The disguise splits open, and Mana's real face stares at you in surprise. “You... like that sort of thing?”

You shrug. “Not really, but if that's my punishment then I can handle it.”

Mana steps out of the costume toward you, and it vanishes within his shadow. “I wouldn't want to make you do anything you didn't want to.”

“Oh, so I get a choice in my punishment?” He nods and you can't help the snort of laughter. “I think you're missing the point of punishment.”

Mana grins. “Then how about I give you _pun_ -ishment instead? You have to listen to _all_ of my terrible jokes.”

The very thought makes you chuckle. “I don't think I could take that.”

“A ship carrying red paint crashed into a ship carrying blue,” he says, a twinkle in his eye. “Both crews are believed to be marooned.”

“No! Stop!” you wheeze. The joke was so terrible, and yet you can't stop laughing.

Emboldened, his grin broadens. “Walking home last night, I saw a cheesecake, a chocolate cake, and an ice cream sundae. I thought to myself, 'The streets are strangely desserted.'”

“Please! No more! I'll do anything!”

He brushes his lips against your forehead. “Anything?”

“Yes! Just stop with the terrible puns!”

With a boisterous laugh, he throws his arms around you and kisses you. You're knocked to the bed with an _“Oof!”_

“Careful!”

He kisses you again. “Sorry, sorry. I'll be gentler.”

Already you feel like you're forgetting something. It's hard to focus when Mana's already pressing kiss after kiss to your jaw and neck, but you manage to grasp the thought before it escapes you entirely. “Promise me you won't hurt Allen first.”

Mana sighs against your neck. “As you wish. So long as he cooperates—”

“No,” you say flatly. “No hurting him at all.” You can tell he's not happy with the ultimatum. “I don't want you hating yourself later when you remember him properly. Okay?”

“Okay.” He closes his eyes a moment, then says, “I've told Wisely to pass my orders along to the others.”

“Good. Now where were we?”

A broad smile spreads across Mana's face when you pop open the buttons of your blouse one by one. You let yourself get swept up in his touch as he runs his fingers under your skirt along your thighs to your center. His tongue coaxes yours into a dance that leaves you dizzy and wanting more even as he tweaks your clit in the way he's found you like best. You moan into his mouth, spread your legs for him, cling to him as he works you over.

When you break apart to breathe, a strand of saliva still connects you. Once he rids you of the rest of your clothing, he guides you to lay back on the pillows and trails his mouth down your body. His fingers thrust slowly in and out of you, providing the friction that causes a gradual building of tension within you. Mana pauses to press a kiss just below your navel, whispers some sweet nonsense against the bulge there before working his way back up.

His lips find yours again, and he slides his fingers out. His length, hot and hard, teases against your entrance as you slip your arms behind his neck. Mana shifts, presses the blunt tip of his cock against you, and in one thrust is fully enveloped.

You let out a moan as he moves inside you. In and out, setting a leisurely pace at first but steadily picking up steam. He grips your thighs, spreading you further for him as you lose yourself in the feeling of his touch, of his length inside you, of his mouth on yours drinking in the wanton noises slipping past your lips.

The pressure in your core builds and builds with each thrust. It's like the very fiber of your being is unraveling and you're being pulled apart from the inside out. He traces patterns on your inner thighs with his thumbs, inching them up until one is between the two of you to play with the oversensitive nerves there.

Stars dance across your vision as your climax hits. Mana ruts into you a few more times, then groans with his own end. Heat shoots deep inside you as his movements slow to a rocking. You whine quietly at the loss when he pulls away. He strokes your cheek lovingly before laying at your side and pulling you close.

His hand traces down your front to rest on your stomach. You rest yours atop his, and Mana pulls the blanket around you both. “Get some rest,” he whispers. “You look exhausted.”

“And whose fault do you think that is?” you complain even as you snuggle closer.

* * *

You dine alone that evening. Tricia is still too ill to join you, and the Noah sup together on the Ark. Though a little lonely, it makes it easier to organize your thoughts and plans.

When you woke from your nap, you'd found yourself in your room at the Kamelot estate. Mana must have moved you while you slept to keep you away from their prisoner, possibly to satisfy some need to keep you safe even though you truly doubt Allen would hurt _anyone_ , let alone you. At first, you despaired that you wouldn't be able to check to be sure the Noah kept the promise Mana had made you, but as you redressed in the clothes Mana must have folded and left for you, a piece of paper with something wrapped inside falls from the pocket of your skirt with a thunk to the floorboards.

You unfold the note and find an ornate old-fashioned key atop a message from Road saying to use it tonight.

It's well after midnight when you slip out of Mana's bed. The man is snoring lightly and even when you give him a kiss on the cheek, doesn't so much as stir. At least you won't have to lie to him like you'd originally planned unless he wakes later to find you gone.

Your first stop is innocent enough. You've poked your head into the kitchens late at night in the past when the queasiness made dinner a chore and needed a late night snack. Sometimes there's someone finishing the cleaning from the previous day or prepping for the next. This time, you've managed to hit that sweet spot when no one's around.

You snag some fruit, a decanter with water, and a couple of rolls leftover from dinner. While you're not sure of Road's motives in giving you the key, you have your suspicions and so find a parlor not far from the backdoor to use it. Turning the key makes the door transform with a quiet _pop_ into one painted with dancing clowns. Beyond it, you find the same dark room from earlier.

Allen looks worse for wear when he lifts his head. His leg sticks out before him at an awkward angle, and with a lurch you know it's broken. His face is blotchy with a few more bruises, and though he sets his face in a neutral grimace, you can see in his eyes that he's in a lot of pain.

He stares at you with a mixture of shock and concern. “Mrs. Jones...? What are you doing here?”

“I live here now,” you reply, setting down the tray and digging in your dressing gown's pocket for the tool to accomplish step one of your plan. The lock to his cuffs is a little more complicated than the ones you'd fiddled with back in the theater when someone inevitably locked themselves out of the storage closet, but you think you can manage.

Despite his limited movement, Allen snags the pin from you and works on the lock himself. In no time, it springs open, and his freed hands fall limply to his lap. You don't envy the pins and needles feeling he must be suffering through right now.

He rubs his right wrist, the one that isn't made of what you now recognize as Innocence, with a wince. The skin is red and raw. “Why are you here?” he asks again. “It's dangerous.”

“Road gave me a key,” you say, offering him the tray.

Allen looks grateful as he downs the water. One of the rolls disappears into his mouth, and you're not sure he even chews before swallowing it. The second he takes a little more time with. “But why _here?_ With the Noah at all.”

“It's because I'm Eve.”

At first you think he might not know what that means. He frowns a little, chewing thoughtfully on the peach you'd brought. Then, dawning comprehension, like someone whispered an explanation in his ear. He stares at you dumbfounded. “S-so then... you and the Earl are...”

He looks horrified by the thought, and you can't really blame him. Not after what the man had done to him before you convinced him to stop.

You do your best at nonchalance as you shrug and change the subject. “What about you? Adam,” you stop, shake your head. You don't have to pretend Mana's somebody he's not with Allen, “ _Mana_ said you were the Fourteenth and dangerous.”

Allen hesitates. “I'm... it's a long story.”

He tips forward, and you think he might be about to pass out before he straightens again. He scrutinizes you with gold eyes. “So Mana actually found you,” he says. “Huh, I thought he was making up all that Eve bullshit.”

You haven't heard Allen talk like this since he was small, and even then, it hadn't been detached like this. A sinking feeling tells you that Allen's just as messed up as you and Mana are. You ask, “Are you Nea, the Fourteenth?”

He scowls and replies, “Nea D. Campbell. _Don't_ call me the Fourteenth. It's insulting.”

“Right. Sorry.” You watch him polish off the rolls. “Mana said you were dangerous and tried to kill the Noah in the past.”

A snort. “Almost succeeded too. The Earl got in my way.”

“ _Why_ though?”

He eyes you again. “To save Mana. Seems I'm too late though. Mana's gone, so now I'm just out for revenge.”

“He's not gone though.”

Nea stiffens. “What do you mean 'he's not gone'? The Earl got rid of Mana!”

“And I'm saying he's still in there,” you say firmly. “Adam, Mana, they're the same person. Just... a little different sometimes. But I know Mana well enough to—”

“You literally just fucked him twice,” Nea deadpans. “He crashed on your couch and you boned. That doesn't mean you know anything about him. Although,” and here he looks at your growing belly, “you obvious have done a little more since. Should I say congratulations or sorry? Because you've gotten screwed over on top of getting screwed.”

You resist the urge to smack him. Time is ticking, and there's not much left for aimless conversation. “Look, Mana's still in there, just take my word for it. Now do you want me to help you get out of here or not?”

He eyes you again, sizing you up. There's distrust there, and again, you can't blame him. You're Adam's lover. This could just as easily be a trap, and you can tell the question on his mind is whether _you_ know about it or not.

After a minute's deliberation, he leans his head back with a light thunk against the wall. When his eyes reopen, they're silver, and Allen accepts your help standing. As you sling his arm around your shoulders and help him limp toward Road's door, he asks quietly, “Is Mana really still in there?”

“I assume so,” you say. “He gets a little goofy a lot, and lately he's been getting confused. And if he suggests the name 'Allen' one more time for this kid, I swear...” You sigh. “He remembers your name and knows it's important, but I don't think he remembers you specifically.”

“That's fine.” Allen grits his teeth as you reach the door. He's also looking paler than ever, and though he does his best not to show it, you can tell he's on the verge of passing out from the pain of his broken leg. You attempt to shoulder more of his weight, but he subtly and stubbornly refuses.

Nobody stops you as you help him through the bit of the house to the backdoor and out into the open air. He breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he says. “I can go from here.”

“How? You're hurt!”

He gives a wan smile that you think he means to be reassuring. “Didn't you hear the Millennium Earl before? I have the old Ark.”

A shimmering doorway opens before him, one so much like the Earl's Ark that for a moment, you are afraid that if he steps through, he'll only be captured again. You reach out to stop him as he limps through, but pull it back before you touch him. “Stay safe out there!” you call after him.

Another smile, this one brighter and more like Mana's. “You too. Nea says so too.”

And then he's gone, and you're left alone in the night.

* * *

No one is the wiser the next morning. If Wisely knows from reading your mind, he says nothing, and neither does Road. Both are unconcerned, even as Sheril reports that their prisoner escaped in hushed tones to Mana before Tricia comes down.

Mana looks relieved. Or maybe that's just you projecting.


	9. A Path Forward

Your wedding is a small affair done a few weeks after Allen's escape. Just your immediate family, the Kamelots, and Tyki are in attendance. Sheril worked hard to find you a dress that hides the reason for your hurry, and Wisely must be doing something to keep them from questioning it because no one says a word. Not about the suddenness nor about your remarrying so soon. They're happy for you and wish you all the best.

You honeymoon with a tour of Europe. Paris, Athens, Constantinople... all of the places Mana had told you about so long ago and then some. You even break with the theme and make a stop in India, though to your disappointment your stomach and the delicious-smelling foods there don't want to play nice. Mana promises to bring you back one day when you feel better, and you look forward to it.

It's easy to forget when you travel with Mana that he's also the Millennium Earl, creator of Akuma and the head of the Noah Clan. With you, he's just Mana, former clown, current doting husband, and soon-to-be father. All good things must come to an end, though, and after a few weeks he takes you to your new home.

You take your place as the Lady Millennium, and days fall into a pattern of preparing for your coming baby and and waiting. When he's there, Mana loves nothing more than to snuggle up with you. He lays his hands on your growing belly and his growing excitement is palpable the closer you get to your due date.

By the eight month mark, however, that changes, and Mana is nothing but nerves. He constantly pesters Sheril for advice, not that the man knows anything about what fathering an infant would actually be like though he tries his best to assuage his fears. And Mana has a lot of those. Probably because you are impossibly huge at this point. Bigger than any woman should be, you think.

It's not long before you figure out why.

Three weeks early, your water breaks. Mana refuses to leave your side even as the doctor forgoes subtle hints after the first hour of your labor. Part of you is grateful for the distraction he provides, bringing out his terrible puns from his clown days when you need them. Another part of you wants him gone. He does his best to hide it, but it's obvious to everyone that your pain is even more distressing to him than it is you.

“Adam,” you manage to grit out when you can tell your close to delivering, “if you don't calm down, I _will_ kick you out of here myself.”

He's quick to make promises, but he looks ready to faint when the doctor tells you it's time to push. Mana holds your hand and doesn't wince at your death grip as you struggle through the first baby.

That's right, the _first._ Because just as you think it's over, that you can relax and let the doctor handle the rest, you feel _another_ one coming _._ You curse loudly enough to startle both Mana—who'd just happily accepted his daughter from the doctor—and the doctor himself who apparently somehow missed the fact you had _two freaking babies in you_. At least the second goes quicker, even if it's no less painful.

When you're handed the second baby, another little girl that is an exact duplicate of little Robin in every possible way, you groan and tell Mana, “I jinxed us.”

He pauses in gently rocking the first twin to sleep. “How so?”

“I only came up with one name.” You had meant it back when you said you didn't have to think of more because Robin would work regardless of gender. “Now we have to pick another one.”

Mana chuckles. “We could always go with—”

“If you say Allen, I _will_ divorce you.”

He feigns hurt as he replies, “I wasn't going to suggest that for a little girl. How about Katerina? That was my mother's name.”

Huh, that was a surprisingly good name for thinking it up on the spot. The baby starts sucking at the front of your shift, and you hurry to free your nipple for her to latch on to. “That could work.”

“Robin and Katerina,” he sings, and you can tell it's _Mana_ kissing your cheek rather than _Adam_. “A perfect little pair. Sweet and kind and pretty, and nary a care.”

You giggle. “Not bad, but I think it could use a little work.”

Mana beams and gives you another peck to your temple. “We have all the time in the world.”

* * *

Days blur together into weeks and months. You're glad that Sheril had the foresight to insist you hire a nanny or else you would be losing your mind. You knew one baby would be a lot of work, but two? It's all you can do to keep up with the pair, and you're not sure which is worse: when they refuse to agree on what time to eat or sleep, or when they adamantly demand the same thing at the exact same time (they also seem to think they earn bonus points if it's not something easily shared).

As much as you both want Mana there, duty calls as the Earl of Millennium and as patriarch of the Noah Clan. He comes and goes at all hours, but he spends as much time with you and the twins as he can.

On one of these occasions, he blithely says out of nowhere while holding little Robin's hands, “You know, I have a twin.”

“You do?” This was the first you'd heard of it.

“Why yes. We're identical, too. Only Mother could tell us apart when we were small.” Then to Robin in a conspiratorial whisper, “Kind of like how your mother and I are the only ones who can tell you two apart.”

“Wisely should be able to tell them apart once they figure it out,” you say with a laugh. Much to the mind reader's consternation, the newborns offered no thoughts he could make sense of. They thought and felt, but beyond the immediate (hungry, sleepy, happy, and others that you can recognize without special powers, thank you), most of it was a mystery to him.

Mana chuckles. “But until then, Mom knows best, right?” And he gives you a kiss on the cheek.

* * *

You should have known things were going too well. Mana is away again, but you aren't concerned. At least, not until tears overflow for no reason. You'd just put Robin and Katarina down for a nap when the overwhelming sorrow hits and makes your knees buckle with a gasp. Your head aches, but that's nothing compared to the ache of your heart. Like it's breaking all over again.

One of the servants finds you curled in the fetal position and helps you to bed. The doctors say it's a nervous break, but you know something's wrong. It takes a few days for the disorientation to subside, but when you're fully sensible again, you realize that all of Eve's memories are gone. Poof. Nothing but hazy remnants like dreams.

Worry swirls in your gut. The servants won't tell you, but you aren't stupid. You've noticed the house is far emptier, and though you didn't know exactly which ones were Akuma and which weren't, the few you knew to be so have vanished. Though those that remain talk in low voices, you've gathered that around the same time as your collapse, those missing had disintegrated into a pile of ash. And not just in your home. Everywhere the Akuma were destroyed in an instant.

You fear the worst. Something must have happened to Mana, to the Millennium Earl. Was he dead? Why else would all Akuma everywhere suddenly break down? Why else would Eve's memories, bound to this world through Adam, blink out of existence?

When you're well enough you phone Tricia. She too is beside herself as Wisely and Sheril have gone missing along with Tyki, and almost her entire staff was decimated. Road is the only member of the Noah Clan that hasn't disappeared, but even she can't tell you what happened. She tells you not to worry, that she'll handle everything, but all it does is make you worry more.

All you can do is wait, and you can't stand it. You do your best to keep it together for your family's sake. After all, you've kept smiling for others in the past. This is no different.

You're just finishing packing for an extended visit with Tricia when you're told men from the Black Order have come to see you. The organization sounds familiar, but you can't place it. Eve's memories then? There are a few fragments that haven't fully faded yet, but if that came from Eve...

“Did they give their names?”

“One did,” the maid replies. “He said he was Allen Walker?”

You quickly shut your suitcase. “I'll be right down.”

Despite the amiable smile, Allen looks like he's recently returned from a battlefield. A bandage hides his scarred eye, and a few more peek out from beneath his right shirtsleeve. His left sleeve is empty, folded and pinned to his shoulder to keep it out of his way. He stands and offers an apology for coming so suddenly.

Two others flank him on either side. The one standing behind the sofa Allen previously occupied is tall, blond, and standing ramrod straight. The other feels familiar; with his dark hair and golden eyes, he could be Tyki's long lost little brother. This teen looks supremely board until you enter, and while you can't say he's particularly interested in you, you see the spark of curiosity.

The blond steps forward and offers a hand for you to shake. “The 'Lady Millennium,' I presume?” he asks.

“Yes. It's a pleasure, Mr...?”

“Inspector Howard Link of the Black Order. And these are—“

“We've met,” the dark-haired teen interrupts, expression becoming bored again.

Allen sighs. “This is Nea Campbell,” he says by way of introduction.

You stare at the teen, who is now making a point of ignoring you. “As in, the Nea I spoke to on the Ark?”

His gold eyes flick to you. “The very same.” He looks you up and down. “I see you're doing well for yourself. How old's the kid? Two, three months?”

Just as you're about to reply, you hear the distant chorus of not one but two babies screaming their little heads off. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and await the inevitable. As expected, the crying grows louder and one of the maids hurries in with a baby in each arm. Your nanny had been among those that 'mysteriously' turned to dust, and none of the remaining servants have the knack she did for handling the twins.

Nea lets out a low whistle as you take the pair. “Wow, you _really_ hit the jackpot.”

“Did you come all this way just to check on my family?” you ask flatly. Robin quiets as soon as you take her, but Katerina has made it her life's mission to turn caterwauling into an art form.

“Only partially,” he replies, watching you with renewed interest. “We mostly came to take you back with us.”

You frown. “To your Order? Why?”

Inspector Link tells you, “Due to certain circumstances, we require your assistance as Eve.”

At last Katerina quiets down. “Eve's gone. Those memories disappeared when all the Akuma did.”

Nea smirks at the blond. “Told you that's what would happen. Still though,” he stands and stretches, “doesn't hurt to give it a try anyway. See, they've got Mana, and he won't wake up no matter what they do. Out like a light.” His gaze falls on you again, studying your reaction. “They were thinking that you might be able to wake him up.”

You find you need to sit down. “So he's okay?”

“Depends what you mean by okay. Does 'comatose' count?”

Allen gives him a punch to the shoulder. “Nea!”

“It's all right.” You put on a smile. “I'm just glad he's alive. I've been worried.” Robin starts fussing, and you hurry to comfort her. You doubt your guests want to listen to the pair crying again, which will surely be the case if one starts. The other is always soon to follow. “Are the rest of the Noah clan okay?”

“They're all alive and well.” Nea gets up and peers down at you, or more accurately the babies you hold. “May I?”

He holds out his arms, and you pass him the less crabby (for the moment) Katerina. The little girl stares at him in wide-eyed confusion, and you can tell she's this close to wailing. You're about to scoop her back into your own arms when Nea starts humming a song you've heard every time Mana comes home as he rocks her in his arms.

Now you know why Nea seems so familiar. Sure, he was the spitting image of Tyki, but that wasn't who he reminded you of. Though he'd said they'd been identical twins, there's enough strangeness surrounding these two that it's possible “You're Mana's twin, aren't you?”

“Close, but not quite,” he tells you. “We're not bothers.”

You don't understand, but before you can ask for clarification, Allen butts in with, “It's complicated. It's easier to think of them as twins.”

Nea rolls his eyes and keeps gently rocking his niece. “So what did you name these two rugrats?”

Allen's about to tell him off for being rude, but you answer before he can, “That's Katerina, and this is Robin.”

Though he does his best not to react, you can see the surprise on his face. “Did Mana suggest that name? Katerina.”

“He said it was your mother's name.” You grin at him. “I told you Mana was still in there.”

“You did indeed.” Nea offers the baby back to you. Abruptly switching gears, he asks, “So will you come back with us willingly or do we have to dabble in kidnapping?”

“You're definitely part of that family,” you say with a sigh. “Let me get these two settled, and then I'll go with you. I trust I'll be returning sooner rather than later?” You don't want to leave your staff alone with the pair they've (lovingly) dubbed 'The Terror Twins.'

“An hour or two, tops,” promises Allen. Link assures you that this will be the case.

You pass through the shining gate that is Nea's Ark into a large area bustling with people. You receive a few curious glances, but mostly your arrival goes unnoticed as Link leads you through the halls of the Order. It's not until you reach Mana's room that you attract attention.

A tall man with dark hair and glasses introduces himself as Komui Lee, Chief Officer of the Order. He thanks you for making the trip, apologizes for its suddenness, and says, “I assume Allen and Nea filled you in on why we asked you to come?”

You nod, and he opens the door for you. The room is comfortable enough if impersonal, you think as you take in the sparse furnishings. Tucked into the twin bed is Mana. A chair sits at his bedside, one currently occupied by a napping Wisely.

At the sound of the door clicking shut, he starts and falls out of his chair with an _“Oomph!”_

“Are you okay?”

Wisely gives you a shrug. “I've been worse.” He accepts Allen's hand to haul himself up.

You brush aside Mana's bangs. His face is so pale and peaceful that, if not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, you might have thought him dead. “Has he been asleep this whole time?”

“Not a peep,” Nea says. “We've tried to poke him and annoy him and all that, but he doesn't react.”

“And Nea's _very_ good at being annoying,” adds Wisely with a grimace. Nea childishly sticks his tongue out at the other former Noah.

“Anyway,” Allen breaks in before an argument could break out, “we were hoping you could give waking him up a try?”

Though you have no idea what you can do that Allen, Nea, or any of the other Noah can't, you say regardless, “I'll do my best.”

They leave you alone. Still unsure what to do, you settle with talking. That worked in a few of the plays you'd been in. Not that those had any basis in reality, and frankly, if they hadn't tried that yet, you'd be very disappointed.

You make yourself smile as you pat his cheek. “Sleeping Beauty, it's time to wake up.” No response, nor if you're being honest had you expected one. You try again, “If you don't wake up soon, you'll disappoint the girls. They miss their Papa.” Still nothing.

No one's around to hear you, but still you lean in close so no one hears you seductively whisper, “If you get up now, I'll give you a _best_ surprise.” That's about as effective as the other attempts. Kissing him like in a fairy tale does nothing either.

With each new attempt and each minute that ticks by, more desperation creeps into your voice. “Mana, just open your eyes. If not for me, then for Robin and Katerina. Just don't leave us alone!” He doesn't answer you, not even to correct you on his name like always.

You sit on the bed beside him and take his hand in yours. “I bet you can't even hear me,” you sniffle. As if he could answer you even if he could.

No matter what you try, nothing works. Anything that comes to mind you give a shot, no matter how silly. By the end of the hour, you're getting more and more tempted to try touching him in ways you know you shouldn't while he's unconscious if only in the hopes you'd get a rise out of him. Before you truly consider compromising your morals, however, Allen knocks and says it's time for you to head back.

Sighing, you reach behind your neck and unclasp your good luck charm. Though Wisely had informed you months ago that as the Earl's wife you didn't need it anymore, you'd kept it with you anyway. You drop it into his open palm and close his fingers around it. “I'm going to leave this with you,” you tell him. “It's my lucky charm, so be sure to give it back to me when you wake up, okay?” You press a kiss to his lips, then turn to go.

Someone catches your hand. "You shouldn't leave something that important behind." Heart pounding, you look back. Amber eyes meet yours, and though he's still pale and drawn, Mana is finally awake.

You fling yourself into his arms, and while he can't sit up, he holds you close. “I'm sorry. I must have made you worry. How long have I been asleep?”

“Too long, you silly clown.” You wipe your eyes and give him a light punch to the chest. “I swear, Adam—“ but he silences you with a finger to your lips.

He says quietly, “I must stop you there, (F/N). Though it pains me to say this, I'm afraid I've been lying to you all this time.”

“You have?”

“Yes. You see, my real name is—“

You start laughing despite yourself. “Mana Campbell, right?” He looks surprised that you already know what he was about to say, and that only makes you laugh harder from relief. “ _You're_ the only one who didn't know that, Mana.”

“Really?”

“Yes really!”

He still looks unconvinced as he says, “Huh, I suppose you're right...” His gaze then drifts to your audience. Allen has his eyes averted, but Nea just stares like he can't quite comprehend what he's walked in on. At least both twins have the decency to look embarrassed.

Nea recovers first and elbows Allen. “So how's it feel to get your dad back _and_ a new mom on top of that?” Allen just hides his face in his hand with a groan.

* * *

It's a few days later before Mana's able to return home. He's still weak, but Mana doesn't let it show as he goes right back into father mode with his daughters. You have to remind him constantly to take it easy, that he's still recovering from whatever happened that he and the others refuse to talk about.

At least you're not alone in scolding your husband. Nea has no qualms about dragging Mana away from the twins when it becomes apparent the man's overtaxing himself, and Allen, though much more polite and subtle, is no less stubborn. They're both a big help, and though it takes some time, they truly feel like family.

The trick is explaining these new relations of yours to those around you. The official story given to you by the Order is that, “Due to circumstances with the Innocence, one Nea D. Campbell was thrown forward in time and one Mana D. Campbell's memories were greatly affected by its power. Allen Walker as an accommodator of an Innocence worked for the Order as an Exorcist, and now that their mission has been accomplished, has been released from duty.” While there is little skepticism among your staff—there have been enough odd happenings around the house that the idea of 'magic' isn't a foreign concept—Tricia is less willing to accept this story.

“Something sounds fishy about all of this,” she tells you, and the irony isn't lost that she's been living with a mind reader, a telepathic, _and_ a girl with dream magic and never once noticed a thing.

You simply shrug as you watch Allen successfully juggle one-handed to amuse your four-month-olds. Mana helps Robin clap her tiny hands, to the girl's squeal of delight. Nea refuses to at first, but at a light chiding from his brother to lighten up, rolls his eyes and does the same for a giggling Katerina. “The family resemblance to Mana is striking,” you reply, “and Allen's vouched for Nea. As far as I'm concerned, Nea's family.”

“Allen worked for that organization, didn't he? Maybe he's in on it.”

“I'm good at spotting hucksters. Allen's not one.” He was as skilled an actor as you, perhaps even more so, but you could still see through the majority of his fake smiles. “Besides, your Wisely is an excellent judge of character, and he trusts them.” Even without his mind reading, the young man was skilled at reading people.

Tricia sips her tea. “Well, so long as they don't try to pull any scams...”

You can't help but laugh. “It was all Mana and I could do to get Allen to accept new clothes.” He'd insisted the worn, beat up ones he'd had from the Order were fine, but knowing how Sheril might react, you especially had insisted. An exorcist for a relative is even worse than an actress in his eyes, so you wanted to keep the already inevitable arguments to a minimum.

Mana notices you both watching them and waves Robin's hand at you. You give a small wave in return. “They're quite the motley crew, aren't they?” observes Tricia when Allen balances a small juggling ball tower on his foot. “I wonder where he learned to juggle like that.”

You smile into your teacup. “From the best, I'm sure.”

* * *

Though you do your best to make them comfortable, you can tell that neither Allen nor Nea are suited for life as an earl's family. Allen especially. He does his best to hide it, but you can see the wanderlust in his eyes as well as his struggle to accept his good fortune.

“I used to live to save the souls of the Akuma,” he tells you one day when you catch him staring out the window despite the infant that's fallen asleep in his lap. “Staying in one place like this and not fighting... It just doesn't feel right.”

“Then you just need to find a new way to live.” He looks to you, startled. “Maybe life as an earl's son _isn't_ right for you yet. Maybe it never will be, and that's fine. You need to find what's right for you.”

Allen looks down at the little girl in his lap. “But I can't just leave. What about Mana?”

You smile. “I can handle Mana just fine. Besides, you still have that Ark, don't you? You can go anywhere and come back any time. We'll be here for you.”

He mulls this over, and a week later, lets you and Mana know that he's leaving. “I'll go back to being a clown,” he says, “until I can figure out what it is I'm meant to do now.”

Nea invites himself along on Allen's journey to find himself, much to the other teen's vexation. You're glad they'll have each other. Even though they stop back frequently to check in on Mana so you know they're okay, it's a relief to know they have each other's backs.

Now that they've started taking the first steps toward their future, that just leaves you to find your own path. And for that, you need to know if Mana will make that journey with you.

He's been distant since his return. That first night, he moved into a different bedroom, and at first, you chalked it up to him just being tired. At the time, you were still getting up whenever Robin and Katerina start bawling, though as the twins begin sleeping through the night and he still didn't come back, you start to worry.

Mana doesn't kiss you any more either, nor so much as hug you. There's none of the affection he once showed you. He's still amiable, still smiles, and he shows nothing but love for your daughters. You, however, might as well be a roommate.

That evening after dinner is finished and the twins have been put to bed, you knock at his door. You're all nerves as you step inside, even though Mana smiles at you same as always. “Is something the matter, (F/N)?” he asks.

“I need to talk to you. About us.”

His sigh is resigned. “I was wondering when you would ask.”

“Ask what?”

“For a divorce.”

Wait, what? “Who said anything about a divorce?!”

It's his turn to look confused. “You only agreed to stay with me because of Eve's memories inside of you, didn't you? Now that all that has gone away...”

“If that was the only reason, I wouldn't have married you in the first place and I wouldn't have tried so hard to wake you back up.” You cross the room, sit on his bed, and pat the spot next to you so that he'll do the same. “I think we _really_ need to talk, Mana. We've put it off too long.”

You both take a moment to gather your thoughts. After a minute, Mana speaks first. “I never stopped loving you,” he admits, “but I was... afraid that if I...” He coughs lightly to hide his embarrassment. “I was afraid that if I suggested anything or... or tried to touch you, you might reject me, and when you never pursued me, well...”

“You just assumed that I wasn't interested in you anymore?” He nods. You laugh. “I was giving you space because you were still bouncing back from whatever the hell happened to you.” You poke his cheek, startling him. “Guess it's my fault for expecting you to act your age... well, I suppose you are.”

He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

You do some quick math in your head. “You're only, what, twenty-seven, right? Two years younger than me.” His eyes widen a little and his mouth parts in a surprised little 'o'. “You told me that you were only seventeen before we slept together that first time, remember? So if you weren't _totally_ crazy back then, that makes you twenty-seven-ish now and younger than me.”

He blinks, then laughs, and forgetting himself, sweeps you into a big bear hug. “I did say that, didn't I?”

This is the Mana you fell in love with. You lean into him and hug back. “Can we try again? Just you and me. (F/N) and Mana, not Adam and Eve.”

He kisses the top of your head. “I think I'd like that.”

Whatever the future might hold, at least you know he'll be by your side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I rewrote this last chapter at least twice, and while I'm not entirely satisfied with it, I also think it turned out okay all said and done. It ended up more as a series of vignettes too short to be their own chapters than I originally intended...


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